SuperWhoLOCK: The Unearthly Pilot (A Study in Parallels)
by KitsuneWannaBe
Summary: Crossover between Supernatural, Doctor Who, and BBC Sherlock. Somewhere in season 8 the Winchesters are on a case when they are suddenly abducted by fairies, again. But according to The Doctor fairies are actually aliens who can travel between dimensions. The only world the fae can't go is called the Neutral Zone where the supernatural can't exist. So guess who has to go?
1. Chapter 1

_Super_**Who**LOCK: _The Unearthly Pilot (A Study in Parallels)_

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**_Author's notes: This is just a fun little experiment to see if a SuperWhoLOCK fanficwas possible without being a crack fic._**

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**Chapter 1 - If You Believe and You Know it, Clap Your Hands**

"Pigeon-toed bastard!" Dean Winchester snarled as his bullet grazed the dark, swooping form of their quarry. The hunter ducked and pressed his back to the trunk of a tree. With his eyes scanning the upper branches of the dusk covered forest Dean heard the sound of leather wings again and shouted, "Get 'im, Sam!"

Despite his older brother's encouragement Sam was struggling to keep an eye on their target in the fading light. The critter was a fast one, but for once a bit on the fluffy side. Sam wouldn't call the creature "fat" (since they still couldn't even catch the blasted thing), but…

For once in what seemed like forever it was just the usual job. No apocalypse hanging over their heads, no angels with God complexes, and no Lovecraft-wannabes. The brothers had caught word of a few mysterious missing persons and found one lone freak of nature to bag and tag. The plan had been well thought out until they realized what they were actually dealing with.

Then again, was there really such a thing as a "usual" job for a hunter? A heavy aura of dread filled Sam's chest. His hunter's instincts were snarling like a watch dog. A storm was coming.

A screech of alarm and a loud THUMP brought Sam back to the present. His eyes sought out Dean. Sam's older brother had put away his guns and was walking out into the open. Dean gave a slow clap of appreciation.

" Oohee! Nice one, Cas!" Dean praised.

"Sure looks strange to me," Cas commented as his eyes gave the creature's one eye and lone horn a once over.

Sam had to agree with Cas on that point. The creature was furry and purple of all things. The Winchesters' angel companion and self proclaimed "third wheel" had the creature subdued with a wire net wrapped around its bat-like wings. The creature struggled to no avail and Sam sighed in relief. Despite his reservations about Cas's reasons for tagging along the angel was, as usual, very useful.

Averting the Judeo-Christian apocalypse together had earned the trench-coat-wearing seraph a permanent spot in the "family" and so Dean was more than comfortable letting Cas come along for the ride. Dean hadn't exactly asked for Sam's input about the ride-along, but Sam was willing to let it slide because Dean had been to Hell, Heaven, and purgatory. Sam had only been to two out of the three.

_So far_, Sam amended and was about to knock on wood when the creature began fussing again distracting him.

"Please, pleeeease let me go," Their captive pleaded in a high pitched whine. Babbling between half sobs the creature said, "I wouldn't eat you, honest! You're too tough. I only eat purple people…"

Dean gave the creature a rough nudge with his shoe. "What's your deal, dude?"

"Dean," Sam warned. There was no need to be rude. The thing was out right sobbing. It was rather pathetic, really.

"I-I… I just want to get a job in a rock-n-roll band!" The creature pleaded. Sam's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean hoisted the creature over his shoulder. He marched over to the impala and dropped the furry bundle in the trunk. "That's what they all say."

Sam grabbed his brother's shoulder. "I think he's telling the truth, Dean."

Dean gave him a look that roughly translated as- _Really, Sam? Really, heart bleeding, Sammy?_

Before Sam could retort with a dirty look of his own a new pressure filled the air. The "Doooo ooooooo" of a machine whirling above them grew louder and louder. A spot light shined down looking for something. Sam backed up slowly and asked, "Wasn't the purple-people eater in the movie an alien?"

"It's not me!" The purple-people eater protested. Dean slammed the trunk closed.

"Angels?" Sam asked anxiously.

"No," Cas replied with certainty.

It was Dean who figured out what was up. He shoved Sam into the direction of the passenger door and ordered, "Run!"

Dean had the keys in the ignition and the accelerator to the floor before Cas slammed the door shut. The impala's wheels spun for a terrible second before the old girl shot off like a bullet. Dean took a sharp turn down a packed-dirt road and almost said a prayer until he thought better of it. His baby was more reliable than divine forces anyway.

"Seat belt, Dean." Sam scolded and tried to reach around his brother.

"Dammit, not now Sammy!" Dean shoved his brother back to his side.

"Sorry if I don't want you to die in a traffic accident!" Sam shot back.

"I'll be fine," Dean snapped and nodded pointedly at Cas sitting in the back seat. "We've got bigger problems on our hands."

Dean leaned forward trying to avoid the spot light. The light suddenly appeared in front of them and Dean swerved. "Dammit! Not again, not again, not AGAIN!"

That got Sam's attention. "What is it, Dean? DEAN!"

Sam's warning game too late and the ray of light was right on top of them. Unlike last time "they" took the car and everyone in it. Dean remembered the feeling, but the sensation was new to Sam. He wondered if this was what alien abductions felt like. Well, he knew there wasn't such a thing as aliens, but if normal people lived to tell the story then Sam knew he and Dean would be fine. With that thought giving him peace of mind Sam closed his eyes and let the light swallow him whole.

And after that he felt nothing at all.

[roll opening credits]

* * *

There was a low sound like someone strumming a base cord to the staccato of a fluttering heart beat. The sound reverberated in Sam's ears distracting him from the perpetual darkness that surrounded him. Dean and Cas were gone. He wanted to call to them, but there wasn't any air for him to make a sound. Sam would have panicked, but a feminine voice broke the darkness humming accompany to the base cord. The song was both familiar and alien; Comforting and dangerous at the same time. As gray swirls fused with the darkness like puffs of cigarette smoke, Sam found himself humming another familiar song.

"…Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season…" He didn't know why that song suddenly came to his head.

The feminine voice answered, "I was soaring ever higher but then I flew too high…" And then the melody suddenly changed and a dark voice whispered. "Your song is ending so don't cry, when you hear him knock four times…"

Sam perked up as he heard footsteps. He tried to follow when a sudden ray of light cleaved the darkness in half.

"SAM!" Dean shouted. Sam opened his eyes. Dean's concerned face flooded his vision and Sam's older brother sighed in relief. "You okay, man?"

"I think so," Sam replied as he sat up. "What happened?"

"Nothing good," Cas replied. He was standing behind Dean looking at the world around them.

"Sorry, Sammy, but we're not in Kansas anymore," Dean informed him.

Sam wanted to roll his eyes at the lame reference, but it was true. The area around them looked like a Tim Burton fusion of Candy Land meets the Shire. On the one hand the place was a children's paradise. Right out of a storybook everything was lush and green and gold and every color of a Skittles commercial. The air was sweet like nectar and honey. While the fruit and the flowers dotting the hills didn't look exactly like candy, they looked extremely appetizing… if you were six years old.

The child's paradise was an adult's nightmare. Dentists and Social Services would have thrown a fit. Sam averted his eyes from the bright blue butterflies flitting around. All the winged insects had long, fleshy legs and breasts. Ants, or what Sam assumed to be the world's ant-equivalent, were marching along in tiny lines with tiny black caps and pick axes slung over their shoulder.

_Fairies_. Sam realized.

"Welcome to Fairyland, little bro." Dean put a solid grip on Sam's shoulder shaking him out of his reverie. "Cas, can you take us home?"

"No, it feels like I've been cut off from Heaven." Cas scratched his arm absently before looking down at his own action in shock.

"Uh oh," Dean muttered. "Feeling anything? Hunger? Thirst? Human?"

"I don't know," Cas admitted. "I can't tell for sure."

"We'll figure it out later," Sam suggested as he stood up. "Right now we should-" He paused. "…Dean? What are you doing?"

Dean had glanced around quickly before striding off determinedly in one direction. He kicked the dirt around for a minute until he found what he was looking for. A pair of bushes hurried out of the way with squeaks of panic. Once they were gone a single line of yellow and black bricks became visible.

"I'm calling us a cab," Dean told them as he stuck out his thumb.

The ground beneath them began to tremble and out of the earth broke a white squash. It maneuvered itself out of the ground like a spider with its vines. The pale veggie shook itself clean of excess dirt and sat up on its roots. The top of the squash popped open and a little field mouse with a little yellow/black checkered hat poked its head out.

"Somebody call a cab?" The mouse asked in a squeaky voice.

Sam stared in disbelief.

"Three to the palace," Dean told him. "And put it on his majesty's tab."

The mouse's nose twitched. "Is this a trick human?"

"Nope."

"Fine," the mouse relented. "Willing guests of his majesty are… few, to say the least. But I suppose it's alright."

Before the outlanders' eyes the white squash grew and grew until it reached a size able to carry all three. Sam was still trying to wrap his head about the oddity of their situation. Dean was much more composed, but he had already been to Fairyland and back. Cas didn't seem to have any opinion. He easily climbed up the squash's green vines and sat on the rounded backside of the veggie. Sam and Dean followed suit as the mouse grumbled something that must have been the fairy equivalent of gas prices.

Their ecofriendly transport was a smoother ride than Sam would have originally guessed for a walking salad. Except for the occasional bump their transport was quiet. The mousey driver could be heard whistling with all the grace of a tin-whistle. Sam leaned over to nudge Dean.

"He's a mouse." Sam commented.

Dean shrugged. "It can be whatever it wants to be."

"What do mean?" Sam's face scrunched up in confusion.

Cas joined the huddle to offer insight, "It is my understanding that fairies use magic to cover their true appearance."

Dean nodded. "Fairies generally pick one 'Sunday's best' as they call it. Knowing a fairy's true name makes them obey your orders. Knowing a fairy's birthday lets you control their fate and they never, ever let anybody see their true form."

"Explains the stories," Sam nodded. "What else?"

"Don't eat or drink anything." Dean warned. "Think Purse-ah-phone."

"Persephone," Sam corrected automatically. "Right"

* * *

In no time at all their destination came into view. The palace was carved of white stone and went straight into the mountain as if nature herself had prepared it as a gift for the fairy king. Their taxi driver bid them farewell and good luck before the squash shrank and departed. Dean struggled to push open the grand marble doors until Cas came over to lend a hand. When the doors were forced aside music flowed out of the main halls as drums and strings played tag around the hall's guests.

Sam tried to imagine a human house where the ants and mice had open invitations to come in and sip the wine and dine with the cats and dogs and humanoid hosts. Pests and rat-catchers offered punch to each other while foxes and hounds waltzed across the entry hall. Apparently fairies didn't judge one another by their "Sunday best".

A second level rested above the entry hall where the more traditional looking fairy folk danced in layers of cloth and magic. Sam found his leg muscles twitching in response to the uplifting and lighthearted tune that chased around them. Dean's face twitched in irritation. He wasn't looking forward to what was going to happen next. Apprehensively the older Winchester brother marched up the red-carpeted stairwell to the second level. Fairy gentry gave the trio a look before making room for them.

At the very center of the activity danced a red-haired fairy that stood about 4'9 tall. The fairy creature was limber in its dance. His voice lilted with the musicians'. They were singing curses and challenges to devil himself.

_Oh, the irony_, Sam thought.

When the song finished the red-haired fairy spun and approached the trespassers with a predatory grin what sent shivers down their spines. Whatever advantage they may have had with salt and guns didn't matter because they were in his world now.

"You must be King Oberon." Cas observed taking in the flashes of fear the other fae gave the tiny man.

The red-haired fairy gave an evil grin and scratched his short beard.

"Actually," he said with what could have been considered an Irish brogue. "It's pronounced O'Brian. The French never could get it right."

The fairy king gave the older Winchester brother a saucy wink, "How goes it, Dean?"

"I'm fine- whoa!" Dean held up his arms to prevent the king from the advancing towards him. "Keep your grabby hands to yourself!"

The king clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Ooo touchy, touchy."

"Not if I can help it." Dean snapped.

Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder to calm him. "Not helping Dean."

Dean turned to glare at Sam and retorted with, "I have every right to be- Hey! Get away from the car!" Dean's attention was diverted when a small platoon of fairy soldiers rolled the black impala into the ballroom.

King O'Brian's eyes lit up with mischievousness.

"Looks like you brought me a present." The king floated over to Dean's car and popped the trunk with magic. "How thoughtful!"

The one-eyed creature in the trunk looked up at the fairy king with an expression of fear and humiliation. O'Brian looked the creature over with a glint in his eyes.

"I've been in need of a new musician." The king declared. "Do you know Heart of Gold?"

"Um …maybe?" The one-eyed creature replied uncertainly.

"Excellent." The king snapped his fingers and the solders removed the one-eyed beast and dragged him to parts unknown. "I'll accept the gift as an apology for the damages you caused last time, Dean." The king swiveled around on his heels and sat down on a throne that his subjects had brought to the center of the hall. "I wouldn't want us to get off on the wrong foot since I am in need of your help. If you don't mind me skipping the foreplay this time, it's time to talk shop."

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**A/N: Aaaaaaand rechecked for errors. ta-da.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Pardon Me, M'lord, But Do You Have The Time?**

"Want us to find your son," Dean repeated the King's explanation with suspicion dripping from every word. "But there's something about this place that messes up your mojo and shit."

King O'Brian clicked/winked and in a terrible fake-American accent said, "Bingo, Dean-o! It's a 'humans only' club."

Dean and Sam exchanged looks and the King's face returned to a serious mask.

"I'm afraid it's an offer you can't refuse," the king warned. "You caused quite a stir the last time you were under my care, Dean."

"You kidnapped me!"

"We were well within our rights."

"Says who?!"

"Humans! That's who! At least one us remembers and honors the old treaties! We have _never_ gone back on our word!" The king stood up and was suddenly very imposing for someone so small. "You're lucky I don't demand you pay for the damages you caused in _blood_. I think this way is a win-win." His eye narrowed in scrutiny. "Be glad I'm such a generous and _giving_ person."

The last sentence was dripping with so many undertones Dean's face turned near purple with anger and disgust.

"And if we refuse?" Dean baited.

King O'Brian sighed and scratched his neck. Then in the next instant the king's eyes turned hard and he snapped his fingers.

Cas was gone.

"I'll give you some time to think over my offer," said the fairy king as Sam held his brother back from doing something stupid. "I trust you remember your way to the guest suites? Oh, and try not to brake anything this time."

With that the fairy vanished along with the rest of his court.

* * *

"So," Sam started.

"Not now, Sammy," Dean growled. "We need to find Cas. He's got to be around here somewhere."

Sam and his brother wandered down the maze of hallways and royally furnished rooms. Maids and butlers made themselves scarce and apparently the fairy gentry had better things to do than make themselves known to humans. The brothers felt a strange kinship with rats trapped in a maze. Dean was convinced that cheese, or rather Cas, had to have been stashed somewhere within the castle. Sam hoped the fairy king wasn't familiar with classic Nintendo. He could practically hear the fairy-man, "_I'm sorry, but your angel is in another castle._" And he would probably add another saucy wink for good measure and just to annoy Dean.

"You seem to know you're way around pretty well." Sam noted. "Did King O'Brian give you the grand tour?"

To Sam's (sadistic) delight Dean stiffened. He shot Sam a glare before walking up to a cream colored door and testing the lock. Dean then proceeded to pick at the door until it opened. Unfortunately the room turned out to be a broom closet. Dean exhaled in exasperation.

"I don't want to talk about it Sammy. The guy's a pompous dick."

"Funny word choice there, Dean." Sam needled again. "No really I have to know. Did you _service_ the fairy king, Dean?"

Switching tactics Dean turned to his brother with an evil grin and said, "Didn't know you were into that Sammy. Kinky. Do you really want _all_ of the juicy details?"

"Nope." Sam retreated. He let an awkward silence fall between them as Dean tested the next door. "Cas'll be fine."

"He's not an oldest son," Dean replied. "As twisted as he is, O'Brian is still a fairy and has to stick to the rules. Cas is probably better off than we are at this point."

Trying to speed the process along Sam took out his own set of lock picks and tried two doors down from Dean.

_Who knows_, Sam mentally shrugged. _Maybe a little Irish luck will come my way._

Whether it was the luck of the Irish or merely ill will from a higher power, when Sam opened the door he found that room was already occupied. A scrawny gentleman in a brown suit and bowtie was hunched over examining the walls with keen eyes. When the gentleman heard the door open he spun around and gave Sam a once over mirroring the human's look of surprise.

"Matt Smith?" Sam slipped in stunned recognition. If not the man was a dead ringer for the Whovian actor and the best cosplayer Sam had ever seen.

'Mr. Smith' cocks his head at Sam in confusion. Sam can tell that the man's brain is going about a hundred miles per hour when he replies, "I do go by 'Smith' sometimes. I'm sorry, but have we met or possibly …will meet?"

Sam gasped in sudden, improbable, realization. "No way."

"Sammy? What's wrong?" Dean had noticed his little brother's actions and came over.

Sam pulls Dean aside and whispers, "Dean, do you remember that time Balthazar sent us to that weird dimension? The one where we weren't us, but actors that played us on TV."

"Yeah?" Dean gives the Matt Smith lookalike as side glance. "So?"

"I'm just saying it's possible that _that_ is the Doctor." Sam whispers. "_The_ Doctor."

"Or it's just a nasty trick because that's what fairies _do_." Dean frowned. He wasn't as familiar with the British pop culture phenomenon as he was with Dr. Sexy, but he got the gist of it. "Besides, Sammy, aliens? _Really_?"

"You could say the same thing about fairies, Dean." Sam argued. "You did say the same about angels."

"And both turned out to be a bunch of dicks."Dean snarled.

A gentle cough served as a reminder that the duo wasn't alone.

"I don't mean to interrupt," the Doctor (for that was exactly who he was) intervened. "But I'm willing to hazard a guess that you gentlemen are in a similar predicament. You wouldn't by chance have had a precious item recently sequestered by a rather impetuous red-haired fellow as part of a bargain have you?"

"Did his royal pain-in-the-ass make you an offer you couldn't refuse, too?" Dean asked warily.

"You're American." The Doctor brightened. "Eloquently put, but actually I'm allowed to refuse. It's just his majesty happens to refuse to tell me where he stashed my Tardis." He waved a small cylinder object around frantically. "There's too much interference for me to get a solid reading," the alien complained. "Pocket dimensions are terribly annoying."

"Yeah, something like that." Sam agreed.

"Still the cloaking technology of this species is phenomenal." The Doctor spurred on. "I can't crack it on my own. You wouldn't happen to have a couple of ideas?"

"Not without salt." Dean muttered.

Sam was able to provide the Doctor with a quick rundown of their situation. It was a challenge, at first, explaining things in a context that the alien could understand. The Doctor kept referring to Cas by an obscure alien species name, but assured Sam that he was quite familiar with similar higher level beings. Well, actually he had (past tense) been familiar with such beings, but that was before the Time Wars.

The Time Wars went relatively unnoticed by smaller, less evolved life forms, but had devastated whole civilizations of a different sort. The result had been a mass extinction rivaling that of Earth's Triassic-Jurassic mass extinction, Ordovician-Silurian, Late Devonian, Cretaceous-Tertiary, and Permian _combined_.

While Sam had found enjoyment in the British TV's whimsical humor, he began to realize the great weight that rested on the Time Lord's shoulders. The Doctor wasn't just a funny man flying around the universe in a police box. His life wasn't a TV show. The TV show was snippets of writers' imaginations and pseudoscience painted up with props. The Doctor was in reality now and the reality was that the Doctor needed to puzzle out their situation and then "dash off"; run or be crushed by the weight of his own conscience.

"I honestly do adore humanity." The Doctor assured them. "Indomitable, you lot. In fact that's probably why you were brought in."

"Why's that?" Dean asked.

"It's called the 'Neutral Zone'." The Doctor explained. "And although Eburneans are masters of going in-between dimensions they can't penetrate the Neutral Zone without risks. When the fairy prince crossed over he meant for it to be a one-way trip. …If that is who we're actually looking for," he amended.

"Fairies, Eburnean or whatever, can't outright lie," Dean informed them. "But they can still be sneaky bastards. They're worst at loop-hole abuse than Crowley."

Sam resisted the urge to ask if that was the only kind of hole abuse they were into, but he was worried he wouldn't like the answer. They would be telling "anal probe" jokes for years.

"I've found the culture of this species to be especially interesting." The Doctor rambled on. "To reiterate what you just said, they can't tell a 'falsehood' but use a various socially acceptable techniques of deception."

"Yeah, not a good idea to mess with them." Dean confirmed. "They're sneaky bastards, _all_ of them."

"That's rather racist," The Doctor shrugged. "To them it's a little like survival of the fittest. And by 'fit' I mean finding clever means of weaning out the intellectually challenged. These creatures objectify men, steal trinkets and hide themselves. I'm curious as to how such a culture developed."

"You're the big scary Doctor," Dean grumbled. "Can't you just, I don't know, ask them _not_ politely to let us go?"

"I tried. O'Brian made it very clear that he is not the least bit intimidated by my astounding reputation." The Doctor frowned. "He also made it a point to mention that I wasn't a first born heir and therefore not worth his personal time. Talk about rude."

Sam snorted. "You were just praising their intelligence. I seem to recall underestimating you isn't a wise move."

"Yes, that-"The Doctor stopped in midstride nearly causing the brothers to crash in to him.

"Something wrong?" Sam asked apprehensively.

Without replying the Doctor stormed off. Picking a door at random the time lord forced open the doors and found the fairy king on the first try.

His majesty removed a pair of specials and set them down on a large office desk. He met the Doctor's furious expression with an even gaze, "Oh, hello Doctor."

"It's true then." The Doctor exhaled.

The fairy king shrugged, "I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific."

The Doctor said nothing and merely gave the king a pointed look.

"Oh, that." The fairy king nodded.

"Yes, that." The Doctor replied flatly.

King O'Brian grinned, "Well that would complicate things a little, wouldn't it? But it's not like there's some prime directive left behind by my predecessors." He raised a bushy red eyebrow. "Now do you understand why I need your help? If it's you then it's not too late."

"I'll do it." The Doctor snapped without hesitation.

"Take the humans with you," O'Brian waved a hand at Sam and Dean as they entered.

"Why?" The Doctor demanded. "Just let them go and we can put all this behind us."

O'Brian shook his head, "You can't do it alone, Doctor."

"I'm always alone."

"He won't be alone." Sam assured the king.

"I take you've agreed to my offer then?" The king leaned on his elbow studying the trio with wary eyes. "You'll promise to find my young one?"

"As long as you're not screwing us over with your loophole-fu." Dean replied.

The king raised his hand. "I promise. If you can find my young one," he nodded to the Doctor before continuing, "and manage to return. I'll return you all to your respective worlds and return what was loss to you."

"You mean return what you've taken from us and send us home." Dean threatened, "My car and Cas unharmed."

The king gave a peaceful gesture and promised, "The angel will be my honored guest." The king met Dean's gaze and added, "With his virtue intact. No harm."

"And my car?" Dean inquired.

* * *

**Author's note:**

_Feedback would be lovely, thank you!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Elementary, My Dear Winchesters**

"He took all our weapons!" Dean slammed the trunk of the impala closed more forcefully than he intended. He ran a hand over his baby in apology and turned to Sam. "Those things don't grow on trees!"

"At least we have the car." Sam pointed out with less empathy than Dean had been hoping for. Sam turned his eyes to see the Doctor pacing back in forth on the vast green lawn they had landed in. The alien genius was waving his sonic screwdriver in frustration turning it on and off again.

"My baby's been violated!" Dean's rant continued on. "King or not, he had no business rummaging around in my trunk."

"We have a problem," the Doctor told them and Sam replied with a look of inquiry. "My technology doesn't work here."

Sam frowned. "I thought the Laws of Physics were universal."

"And in your world this-" the Doctor pointed to his magnificent self with a grand gesture, "is a British pop culture phenomenon made of plastic."

"So this world really doesn't have monsters, aliens, or magic shit?" Dean was still trying to wrap his head around the idea. Monster-free? It wouldn't take long for the brothers to start thinking of buying a condo or they would if they didn't have Cas to worry about. "How the hell are we supposed to find (and I can't believe I'm saying this) a _fairy prince_ without looking like a couple of whack jobs?"

"I'm still over 900 years old alien, super genius and you two are a pair of weirdness-magnetic bloodhounds." The Doctor pointed out. "We'll figure out something."

"How about we start with where we are?" Dean suggested.

The Doctor looked around and declared, "Hyde Park."

"London?" Sam sputtered. "As in England?"

"I hope you two brushed up on your English," the Doctor smirked.

* * *

After a few solid hands of poker, some pool hustles, and a theatrical tap-dance (don't ask) later, with Sam and Dean playing up the dumb-tourist card to the max, the brothers and the Doctor were able to secure some basic essentials. They made their base an abandoned building and got to work. The Doctor had a couple of gently used kitchen appliances to play with and the brothers had maxed out their temporary library passes.

"At least you're frugal if a little less than honest." The Doctor praised as he fiddled with an old fashion flathead screwdriver.

The brothers rolled their eyes.

"You do your thing Doc and we'll do ours." Dean told him. "God bless the Queen and a city wide internet connection." He and Sam were looking through online newspapers for anything that stood out. Any clue would be of help at this point. They weren't sure what they were looking for, but Sam knew that their instincts would see them through. For good measure Sam read through some local fairy lore to see if they could find a way back.

* * *

"I still can't believe it," Dean mumbled after a while.

Sam glanced over at his brother, "What?"

"Nothing," Dean slammed the book closed. "It's nothing. No ghosts, no monsters, nothing."

Sam agreed. "I wonder what hunters do when they don't have monsters to fight."

"The same thing humans always do," the Doctor mumbled. "And whatever the cultural equivalent of beans on toast is."

Dean grunted and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Sam demanded.

"Out." Dean replied as he stretched. "I need some air."

* * *

Dean hadn't been prepared for an English summer. He waited until the buckets of rain became a light drizzle and started walking in a random direction. He was thinking about what it would be like not to have to fight monsters. Without demons, would his mom still be alive? If angels didn't exist, would his parents have even met? Would he have ended up like "Dean Smith" in Zachariah's warped fantasy world? Or would they have ended up like their actors in the alternate universe? Dean hated thinking like that because it made his head hurt, but it has unavoidable. Sammy was Dean's one good thing; irrefutable proof that Dean wasn't as screwed-up as he thought he was. Dean could tolerate monsters, but he couldn't live without his brother Sammy.

The unmistakable sound of hushed sniffles caught Dean's ear. A kid was sitting half soaked on a park bench. A boy, Dean correctly assumed, probably about nine or ten years old. The kid's clothes were clean so Dean knew he wasn't a runaway. Frizzy brown curls were temporarily tamed by the rain.

Dean sighed and walked over.

"Those are some manly tears you got there, bud." Dean kept a good distance so the kid wouldn't freak out at a stranger talking to him. "You okay?"

The boy did look startled that somebody had seen him crying and quickly wiped his face with a sleeve.

Dean looked around. It was still mid afternoon, but nobody seemed to notice the kid. "Shouldn't you be in school or something?"

"Wouldn't matter," the kid mumbled. He leaned forward with his hands between his knees. "I'm not that smart anyways." The kid huffed. "Teacher's suck."

Dean's mouth twisted a little in agreement.

The boy looked up at him and said, "They say I'm bad at accepting 'constructive feedback'." He did the air quote thing like a mini-Cas and Dean grinned.

Dean liked the kid's spunk and rebellion against authority.

"No way," Dean said and sat down next to the boy. "I can tell just by looking at you that you're a regular smarty pants, just like my little brother." Dean looked around and then back at the kid. "Go on, tell me something only you know about."

The boy bit his lip thoughtfully. Dean could see faint freckles dusted across the boy's nose. He waited patiently for the kid to reply. At least the boy had stopped thinking about what was bothering him.

"I like horticulture," the boy admitted. He looked around and whispered to Dean conspiratorially, "And I never read Harry Potter."

Dean smirked. "Me either. So plants, huh?"Aside from a few essentials that combated the supernatural there wasn't a whole lot Dean could offer when it came to greenery. Tough hobby, poor kid.

The boy pointed to a well trimmed row of evergreens.

"Some poor sod has to care for those," he said. "Isn't that sad? Why don't they let the trees do what they want? I mean removing weeds is one thing, but instead they have to cut the trees so they look a certain way. I mean, I get it if a branch is dying or whatever, but if you cut a healthy branch I bet it still hurts the tree. I think we should just let trees do what they want and appreciate the natural beauty."

"See, I told you." Dean bumped the little guy's fist. "You are a smart cookie. Already thinking big picture."

Dean glanced at his watch and saw that he had to be getting back. "I need to get going. Are you waiting on someone?"

The boy nodded, "Yeah, my friend. He should be here soon." The boy blushed. "Sorry about the water works."

Dean shrugged, "Don't worry. I don't think any girls saw. What was bothering you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I only have one friend," the boy admitted. "I was just worried that someday he might not like me anymore."

"Phf, I'm sure you're a great kid." Dean held out his hand. "Dean Winchester. Now you can have two friends."

The boy shook his hand and asked, "Really?"

"Sure."

"Thanks Mr. Winchester!"

Dean grinned, "It's just Dean. See you around kid."

Dean waved and walked away. The young boy watched him go and his eyes narrowed with each step the man took. Tapping his chin thoughtfully the boy mused, "Now what is _Dean Winchester _doing here?"

* * *

The Doctor growled in frustration and nearly threw the parts in his hand at the wall. The devices simply refused to work. Parts rejected each other like a badly married couple and sparks just refused to fly. Sam shared the Doctor's sentiment. He wasn't having much luck either finding strange anomalies.

"It's hard when you don't have a writer to bail you out," Sam muttered.

"I'm not a TV show, Sam." The Doctor's shoulders visibly slumped. "What is so fascinating about misery that people feel the need to watch it?"

Sam shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Probably to forget their own troubles. I mean, look at this place." He waved a hand at the computer screen in front of him. "No monsters under the bed here. I've been hunting things in the dark since I was a kid. I never really got to do normal things." He chuckled. "Some poor sucker probably didn't get a date to the prom so they flip to Supernatural Saturday on the BBC and watch a quirky alien run around with a hot chick."

The Doctor smiled, "It's a coincidence that my companions are pretty."

"Whatever you say, Doctor."

The sound of boots on metal alerted them to the fact that Dean had returned from his walk. The older Winchester brother kicked open the door. The rain had picked up again and puddles formed at Dean's feet at he stood in the door way.

"Supper time," Dean told them as he held up two bags. "Rabbit food for the health nut-"

"Hail Caesar." Sam said as he claimed the salad.

"And regular fish 'n chips for the good doctor and myself."

"I could use a break," the Doctor admitted and sat down. His hand brushed a fresh stack of papers and he looked at Dean incredulously. "Tabloids?"

"Best place to find out about the weird and strange," Dean reasoned. "Look who's on the front page."

In the boldest print the press could find slapped across a picture of a dark-haired man were the words, "Sherlock Holmes Lives!"

"Sherlock Holmes?" Sam exclaimed.

"Parallel world," the Doctor noted.

"Recently came back from the dead, too." Dean showed them the article.

The trio read through the conspiracy that happened a while back. A rookie private detective had gained internet fame through the blog of a retired army doctor. The two cracked some of the toughest cases and left the police baffled and embarrassed. His methods had made the detective enemies, very powerful enemies which had lead to the detective's down fall.

"Wow, Moriarty is a bastard." Dean took a bite out of some French fries aka chips. "Looks like this guy would give Crowley a run for his money."

"Interesting," Sam muttered and typed a curious question into his search bar.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"Sir Arthur Conan Doyle," Sam read. "Is one of Sherlock's biggest fans and wrote a serialized story based on the detective's exploits. Apparently Sherlock doesn't like him because Doyle's a well known believer in the supernatural."

"The supernatural that doesn't exist," Dean muttered.

"Maybe not." The Doctor held up a page of the most recent newspaper. "Chalk up one for dramatic irony. In a world where Sherlock Holmes is a real person, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has gone _missing_."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Hans Reichenbach Falls Silent**

* * *

**[Author's note: I am not badmouthing or favoring anybody's ships. In this chapter I'm merely giving a nod at them for humor purposes. My only opinion on slash fiction is that there should be more fanfiction (all kinds) in general.]**

* * *

Using a Café's wireless internet to delve into everything Sherlock Holmes related Sam couldn't help but feel a slight sense of his popularity being threatened. Although, to be fair, the books Chuck Shirley had written about his and his brother's exploits only maintained a small cult following in their world. Sherlock was an internet sensation. Thanks to Dr. John Watson's blog the detective was a celebrity in his own right. Sherlock's own website titled "The Science of Deduction" was also a worthy read. It took everything Sam had not to geek-out over the very idea, but Sherlock Holmes was _real_. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were real people and solving cases in the here and now. After reading about Sherlock's mysterious death and return Sam nearly swooned.

But then he had stumbled upon the "other" side of the internet.

Dean-slash-Sam? Disturbing as hell in Sam's opinion (and he had been to hell), but absolutely small scale compared to the abundance of "Johnlock" Sam had to scroll through.

"Female hormones are insatiable, apparently," Sam muttered as he closed his browser tab. "Even the landlady is in on it."

Moving on to their next lead Sam picked up a newly acquired copy of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's novel wondering if there was some hint buried inside the cover to the author's whereabouts. Sam had been surprised by the book. While his world's Sherlock Holmes stories had been grounded in reality, the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle of the Neutral zone had taken the "whatever remains" part very seriously. Ghosts were a common element in Doyle's chapters and fundamental in providing the heroes with information necessary to solve their cases. It was the main character's job to look at the ghosts and draw conclusions about their life and their eventual demise based on little clues in their appearance and mannerisms. Then together the main characters, Sheridan Hope and Ormond Sacker, solved the murders and put the spirits to rest.

_At least it's better than vampire romance_, Sam thought as he skimmed the pages.

"_You love humanity despite its flaws, Sheridan, yet you hate our creator for having flaws,_" a female voice lilted. Sam looked up and saw a brunette in large glasses looking over at him. The woman pointed to the book. "Chapter 8. That's when the book gets better. I promise."

The brunette smiled when Sam continued to stare at her dumbly. She wasn't British, based on her voice, but she was nursing a cup tea and enjoying what looked like the Café's special of the day. If she were in a movie the woman would have been cast as the homely, down-to-earth friend of the heroine, which meant that by normal standards the woman was quite pretty despite her prude clothing.

_Well, what the hell_, Sam thought and invited himself to sit at her table. "Are you on vacation?"

The woman shook her head.

"You," She asked.

"Something like that." Sam held up the book. "Are you a fan?"

"I like reading in general," the woman admitted and pushed forward beat up copy of _The Rise of Scientific Philosophy_ in Sam's direction. Then a little more hesitantly, "I don't… get out much. This is my friend's favorite cafe."

"Have you noticed anything unusual about these books?" Sam asked carefully and held up Doyle's novel.

"May I?" She pointed to Sam's laptop.

"Sure."

With a few masterful key strokes the woman navigated the browser to a fan website complete with conspiracy theories relating to the supernatural elements found in Doyle's books. More notably the comment section had quite a few members of the Skeptic Society flaming the "less evolved minds".

_It's not monsters_, Sam reminded himself. There were no monsters in this dimension except one lone (and Sam still can't believe he's saying this) _fairy prince_, but too many variables existed for Sam to guess how involved the little bugger was or what he even looked like. King O'Brian's explanation of "the fool was in love and so the fool left" didn't offer much insight. Sam assumed the king meant that the prince had left because of a woman (or man). Admittedly the thought of a fairy giving up all of his powers and abilities and living a normal life for the sake of one mortal had quite the romantic appeal.

"I don't think ghosts had anything to do with it." Sam said when he finished scanning the comments section of the fan page.

"I was disappointed with his last release," the woman admitted. "It felt rushed and there were still some errors left over."

"Really?"

"Yes," the woman explained. "Doyle even refers to a group of crows as a 'flock'. I was kind of annoyed."

"A group of crows is called a 'murder'?" Sam raised an eyebrow. That was an interesting mistake.

The woman shrugged. "It wasn't the only mistake. He misuses the terms 'zugzwang' and 'morendo'. He makes some grievous errors about palmistry." She threw up her hands. "I had to stop reading after he butchered Cicero's 'The good of the people is the chief law'."

Sam looked at her intently. "Do you know if anyone's made a list of those mistakes?"

* * *

Contrary to popular belief Dr. John Watson didn't spend all of his time running around London chasing criminals with the world's only consulting detective. The good doctor did have a day job and he was still a good doctor. On that particular day he was using not only using his medical skills, but was also putting his military background to good use helping out mental patients at St Dorothea's hospital.

"Odd choice of saints," John muttered at he examined a patient being treated at the hospital for PTSD. John, however, was only responsible for the man's dislocated shoulder. A football (non-American version) had gotten a little too rough and the chap had gone flying into a marble statue of the Hospital's name sake.

"I like it," the ex-soldier commented. "The gardens here are something else. It's almost like a fairy had a hand in their making."

"I suppose," John nodded. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't need to look to see who it was from and ignored the text.

"I read your blog," the ex-soldier quipped. "You like the adrenaline kick and all that gore don't you?"

"I suppose." John looked at the man steadily. "You?"

The ex-soldier looked sheepishly at him. "No, I- We don't fight for god or country."

"Private security?"

"Yeah," the ex-soldier winced as his shoulder popped back into place. "I was always a bit of an awkward sort. I guess you could say…" He winked at John. "Slept my way up the ranks. I believe the term is 'bi-curious'."

John paused his work for a moment to see if the man was flirting with him. He was engaged for crying out loud. It was on the blog and everything.

Not really paying much attention to John's analysis the ex-soldier rambled on, "Well then a company rival gives me a better offer."

"What was the offer?"

"A significant reward for eliminating the completion." The man hopped down off the examining table and gave his shoulder a couple of experimental roles. "Calculating in the cost of my meds I just about break even. Food's not great, but you know-" He shrugged and winced because his shoulder was still tender. "The rent is free and little-doc is nice enough to escort me out and about on occasion. He's a really nice guy." He gave John a steely squint. "He's a good kid. Why would a private detective we looking in to him?"

John coughed and hid his embarrassment at being discovered by pulling out his phone.

_Something has come up. Forget trailing the St DH intern for now. Check the local news and meet me at Baker Street. –SH_

John Watson sighed. "It's nothing. Nothing at all, I'm just lending a hand at the hospital."

He put the phone back in his pocket and went to the employee lounge to turn on the television. He would have said, "This better be good," but knowing Sherlock it probably was.

* * *

"I want to wear the hat." The Doctor insisted.

"You don't need the hat," Dean snapped in reply.

"Dean, it might be a really good idea not to piss of the alien super genius." Sam warned his brother in a low tone.

As the Doctor slid on a deer-stalker hat a newscaster reported in the background;

_Police received an anonymous tip earlier today about a secret message hidden in the pages of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's latest release. The message reads as follows:_

_'I am certain that my murder is imminent so I leave it to the world's greatest detectives to solve my case if they are unable to save my life.'_

_Five amateur sleuths have answered the call making Mr. Doyle's darkest hour into a friendly completion between Britain's very own Sherlock Holmes and a couple of new upstarts visiting from the United States._

"I resent that! I am not from the United States."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Is There a Doctor in the Hearse?

Dean hadn't really expected to see the young boy again, but sort of hoped he would. The park he'd found was a good place to clear his head. Sam didn't give him dirty looks when Dean came back smelling like evergreens instead of whiskey. Just like the other day the young boy was sitting on a park bench with nobody paying him any mind. When Dean sat down his new buddy offered a can of soda.

"You're meeting your friend again?" Dean asked as he flicked open aluminum can.

The kid nodded and pulled out a pack of cards from his coat.

"What's that?" Dean pointed to the cards.

"I borrowed it. It's a collector-type card game." The boy replied. "Kids are supposed to be really into it."

"_Kids_', huh?" Dean smirked.

"You got any kids?"

"What?"

The boy mirrored Dean's smirk. "Unless you got kids of your own you look pretty pedophile-ly right now."

Dean huffed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence kid."

"You're the one staring at me," the boy pointed out.

Dean ignored the awkward silence in order to collect his thoughts.

"I sort of had a son." He said finally.

"How do you 'sort of' do that?" The boy asked.

Dean sighed, "I with someone for a while. He was her kid."

"Bad break up?" The boy looked at Dean sympathetically.

"Worst ever."

Their little reverie was interrupted when a tall gentleman with dark hair walked up and stopped in front Dean. The hunter was used to receiving soul-searching looks. He just wished he knew what people found so damn fascinating about him besides his good looks. The gentleman just wasn't Dean's type and Dean hoped his glare was enough to convey that fact.

"Daddy issues," the man grumbled. "Typical."

Dean tensed. He stared at the man and said, "You must be _Sherlock Holmes_." There was an evident mock to his tone.

"You must be my competition. Must say I'm not impressed." Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're not law enforcement."

Dean didn't take the obvious bait and instead accused, "Some guy's life is at stake and you call it a _competition_?"

"Oh?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "What would you like me to call it then? A hunt?"

Dean knew Sherlock was good, legendary, but he was still only human. He was probably reading something on Dean's left sleeve about being a big game hunter, bounty hunter even, but Dean doubted the man could see the _real_ picture so the hunter kept his cool. Barely. Keeping his cool was a challenge since every word Sherlock said had the subtext of '_punch me in the face_'.

"I got to go." The kid's voice broke the tension and he leapt off the bench. A little ways off a young man in a doctor's lab coat was waving at them.

"Who's the lab coat?" Dean asked. "Your dad?"

"Pft, no." The kid looked at Dean like he had said the funniest joke of the century. Then he looked down at the ground suddenly embarrassed. "That's my doctor." The boy added shyly, "And my friend."

Dean felt like he had been punched in the gut. "Your _doctor_ is the _friend_ you wait on every day?"

The kid shuffled his feet a little. "They think it'll help if I get some air now and again."

"Does it help?" Dean asked quietly.

"I guess so." The kid shrugged. "I meet people like you and I think maybe we ought to rethink what 'crazy' means.

"Ha ha. See ya around kid." Dean gave the little man a parting salute. Once the kid was a good ways off Dean stood up to size up the legendary Sherlock Holmes.

"Now you had something you wanted to say to me, pal?" Dean baited.

* * *

Sam whistled low and impressed. "I'm surprised you didn't punch him in the face."

"Please," Dean scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I saw the moves Robert Downy Jr. pulled. Although this guy screams 'nerd' I wasn't gonna risk it."

The two brothers were huddled together and standing in the background like furniture. The lead performer tonight was the Doctor. The alien super genius was playing the part of a Sherlock Holmes fanatic (a role not difficult for him) who had taken a special interest in the case. The brothers were his "associates" and "American muscle".

Dean leaned over to Sam and asked in a stage whisper, "Remind me, why can't I shoot them?"

"Because we need their help, remember?" Sam reasoned. "Do it for Cas."

Detective Inspector Lestrade shared Dean's sentiment. He looked equally frustrated with the two eccentrics going at it. Sherlock dismissed the Doctor's "brilliance" as insanity and proceeded to insult the alien's bowtie and taste in hats. The Doctor, however, good-naturedly regarded Sherlock in the same manner one would address a child.

"Look, as far as we're concerned there's not even a case here," Lestrade reminded them. It was only the Detective Inspector's trust in Sherlock that brought him to the scene.

Everyone was gathered around an outdated fax machine located at the magazine publisher where Doyle's series was released on a monthly basis. The publisher looked a little nervous, but that was understandable because of police semi-involvement. Several drafts had been laid out for the consultants to peruse through. The publisher explained, "Every month we receive the next chapter along with Mr. Doyle's signature proving the authenticity."

"There is a case and you know it, Lestrade," Sherlock scolded. "Look here."

He held up a couple pages to the light.

"It's a match, Sherlock." Lestrade said with thin patience.

"It's an exact match." Sherlock corrected. "These signatures are an exact copy. So either Mr. Doyle was too lazy to sign each document…"

"Or he is unable to sign the document." John finished for him. He shook his head. "Do you think he's dead, Sherlock?"

"That is at the moment the highest probability," Sherlock admitted. "But I'm not yet certain."

Their conversation was timely interrupted by a woman entering the room.

"Hello," She greeted nervously. "I'm Mary. Arthur Doyle is my father."

Lestrade stepped up. "I'm very sorry about all this," he began.

The woman looked at him and was clearly on the verge of tears. "My father… He's really missing isn't he?"

"You don't know?" John asked with mild shock.

"We're actually very close," Mary Doyle admitted. "He and my step-mother were going on holiday. He told me not to worry, but then this secret message came out in his writings. I haven't heard from him in months! I didn't think-!"

"It's alright, we're looking into it." Lestrade soothed. "Did your father often take extended vacations?"

The Detective Inspector continued to quiz Mr. Doyle's daughter for any helpful information. At the same time the Doctor was examining the writing pages. He waved a hand at Sam and Dean to come over.

"Is there anything else you see in here?" He asked the hunters.

The duo shook their heads.

"The code is related to misinformation," Sam replied. "We're not the foremost experts on British trivia."

"When's the next draft coming in?" Dean asked the publisher.

The publisher checked his watch, "Any minute now, actually."

Sam doubted the publisher had any psychic abilities, but he was spot on with his prediction of the arrival time. The publisher quickly picked up the draft and made several copies. Once the copies were made he passed them to the investigators. Like the previous drafts nothing jumped out at them right away. Even Sherlock was frustratingly baffled.

After an hour of staring at the pages, Sam made a suggestion. "We'll take this back with us to look it over."

"Do you have a mobile?" John asked them.

Dean pulled out a burner phone he had lifted from a convince store and handed it over.

* * *

Once numbers were exchanged they exited the building together, but lost in separate worlds. The street was busy so Dean almost didn't see the small figure duck out into the empty crosswalk. The light was barely green, but the motorist wasn't paying attention when he turned. Dean's stomach dropped to his feet and it rooted him in place. It was the barest moment of hesitation that held him back. Two seconds, that's all he would have needed to do something, anything, but stand and watch the boy from the park get crushed under the weight of a car.

"Oh my god." Sam's gasp spurred Dean into action.

The older Winchester ran forward to cradle the young boy and guilt shot through him. The boy was sobbing softly, but alive.

"Call an ambulance!" Dean ordered the closest onlooker.

Sam came over to assist. They could do this. They had patched enough up a million times. Werewolves, wendigos, and even the goddamn apocalypse hadn't brought the brothers down.

But then Dean remembered they had had divine favoritism on their side. The Neutral Zone had no monsters, no god, and no angels. There was nobody for Dean to pray to that would make the ambulance come any faster. He shot a worried look at Sam and then spotted something across the street.

"Twins," Dean muttered confused.

Sam turned his head and frowned.

On the other side of the street Dean saw the same boy staring at him in horror. The boy's body shimmered and warped like a mirage. The boy looked down at his hands as his shape warped again and then stepped back quickly vanishing into the crowd.

A sudden wetness and a potent ammonia smell drew Dean's attention back to the boy lying in the street and the hunter knew subconsciously that the young life had ended.

* * *

**Author's note: Wait, this fic is labeled "comedy" and I just killed off a child! uh, oops? He would have grown up to be a serial killer or radical homophobic-whites supremacist-terrorist-puppy mill breeder- I promise! Fate of the world world we're talking about! No if's and's or but's, the kid had to go. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: An Invisible Enemy, the Phantom Traveler**

Coincidences didn't happen to the Winchesters so Sam could only assume that seeing the woman from the café standing across the street wasn't a coincidence. But at the same time it very well could have been just a quirk of fate. She was staring in horror at the accident like everyone else. There was nothing odd at all in her gaze as Sam watched her back up into crowd. He lost sight of her for a moment until she appeared again huddled next to a young man in a white lab coat. The woman's companion embraced her, shielding her eyes from the tragedy, and probably whispering comforting words into her ear. Sam felt a bang of jealousy before forcing the feeling down. It wasn't his concern at the moment. Sam filed the image away in the back of his mind as he tended to Dean who was shaken by the accident in a way that seemed odd. It was a tragedy to be sure, but it was almost like Dean knew the kid personally.

After the authorities arrived and cleaned up the scene Sam, Dean, and the Doctor returned to their hideout in silence, each determined to deal with the accident in their own way. It would take time, but Sam would accept that it was just an accident and there wasn't anything he could have done. The Doctor probably would realize the same after experimenting for a time with the household Dean that was not the case.

Dean stood up and announced, "I'm going to mingle with the locals."

"You need a new code for 'going to the bar'," Sam admonished. "Just don't drink yourself stupid."

"Whatever, bitch." Dean said. "Now if you'll excuse me, mama Sammy, I have some memories to repress."

"Jerk," Sam replied absently, but before his brother could leave Sam added gruffly, "Dean."

"What?"

"The blood." Sam looked his brother in eye and then dropped his gaze to the front of Dean's jacket.

Dean growled in frustration and tossed his dirty clothes into a corner and stole one of Sam's shirts. Sam knew his brother wasn't in a mood to talk about feelings. He was going to have to ask Dean later about the kid. Ask why the accident had put Dean in that special self-deprecating mood like it had been Dean's own personal mission to save the kid even when there was nothing he could have done. Sam gave his brother a wave as he stomped out the door. Dean could do his drunkard thing for a while, but Sam was going to do something useful. He pulled out the pages they had received from the publisher and began skimming.

Sam was beginning to doubt that the missing author had anything to do with the fairy prince. As the Doctor had pointed out, there were too many variables. Too many "what if's". The fairy prince could be nearby if King O'Brian had sent them to London on purpose. That could be true only if the king knew the whereabouts of his missing son. Sam couldn't even find a running list of O'Brian's (or _Oberon_ as the human's called him) children. Rather than drive himself crazy with speculation Sam decided the best course was still to focus on the known case.

Doyle's work was littered with errors that had pointed to a secret code that used the Cockney alphabet. A for 'orses, B for mutton, etc… so that whenever a horse was mentioned it meant the letter A. Sam picked up the most recent document and began underlining the code words.

"Novello, Garden, Garden, Francis," Sam muttered. "L-O-O-K-F-O-R-T-H-E-"

_Look for the coordinates._

"What coordinates?" Sam scanned the chapter for numbers of any kind. Nothing jumped out so he knew they would have to wait for the next draft. The hunter was so deep in concentration that he hadn't noticed the Doctor slip out.

* * *

Dean hadn't seen the bench's engraving until then. It was dedicated to someone he didn't know anyway. Dean sat down and tried not to think about the kid. He didn't think about the smell of blood, the scraping of broken bones, and whether or not a nearby bench would be engraved with the kid's name in memory of the tragedy. Maybe the kid's parents would plant a commemorative tree instead. The bottom line was shit happened to good people and the o'l deadbeat masters of the universe didn't care.

The hunter barely blinked when Doctor sat next to him.

"You and Sam are my human companions," the alien said. "I don't like it when my companions are sad."

"Don't you have a toaster to stick a fork in?" Dean asked as he pulled out a beer from a convince store bag.

"You mean because it's about as useful as my sonic screwdriver is right now?" The Doctor chuckled. "I'm starting to think this is a problem for humans to solve. Clever creatures that you are."

"Yeah, we're doing a great job." Dean grumbled. "This isn't even our dimension. How are we supposed to find this damn prince if we don't even know the rules?"

"I've also found humans to be very adaptable as well," the Doctor acknowledged. "Have you considered possibly staying in this realm?"

"Have you?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I'd probably go mad myself." The alien chuckled. "I can only stand so much beans on toast. You and Sam could probably do well here. Well, not in London, but in America."

Dean thought about it for a moment. The no monsters thing was a plus, but both he and Sam had already tried the apple-pie, white picket fence American Dream life. It didn't work out. It never worked out. Dean had two constants in his life; fight the good fight and take care of Sam. It had been that way for almost his entire life. Winchester's weren't capable of a normal life. They were too broken. If there weren't any vampires, werewolves, or shapeshifters then there were other ways to use their skills, but it would never be normal.

"I'm a one trick pony, Doc." Dean told him. "I fight monsters. If there are no monsters then I don't belong here."

"I've been thinking about that, actually." The Doctor confessed, "I'm beginning to think that the information we've been given is…less than accurate."

"Why do you say that?" Dean took another swig of beer.

"How certain are we about the fairy king's words?" the Doctor asked.

"Well fairies can't lie," Dean reasoned. Then he saw it. "Unless, you don't think he's a fairy."

The Doctor nodded solemnly. "That is a distinct possibility."

"Well, shit. That would be a problem."

* * *

Actually the real problem was if King O'Brian wasn't a fairy and they had indeed been sent on a while goose chase then they were screwed. That meant they had no leads and no ideas.

"How sure are we that O'Brian is an impostor?" Sam asked.

Dean paced back and forth in agitation. "Dammit, O'Brian was the man in charge the first time I got nabbed and that's all I know."

"But if he isn't a fairy, then he could be anything!" Sam snapped.

"No," The Doctor corrected. "Not anything. Just something. Something very specific."

The alien picked up pieces of appliances and laid them out like a go board. He picked up two pieces that represented the brothers and a piece representing himself.

"Someone wants us out of the way," the alien mused. "I have quite the reputation in my own universe and I trust you two do as well?"

"Sort of kick started the apocalypse and royally screwed over both Heaven and Hell." Dean glossed over the facts a little bit, but he could see the Doctor's point.

Sam scratched his head thoughtfully. "I don't know," He confessed. "Something doesn't feel right. I guess if this thing wanted to take us out of commission it could have just killed us."

Sam explained that in his opinion it would have been easier for their adversary to take them out individually. Instead whatever it was had tricked them had sent them together to the neutral zone complete with a phony story about how they needed to find a fairy prince. The only way to explain that was that whoever didn't want them dead, they wanted the team to find something or someone else.

"It would have to be something obvious," the Doctor said. "They meant for us to find it by looking for the fairy prince."

"But instead we figured out the story was a fake first." Dean frowned. "So what the hell are we looking for?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"So helpful," Dean muttered. "Are we still going to follow up on that other case?"

Sam glanced at his watch. "The next chapter is due to be released today. If I'm right, it should have the location hidden somewhere in the chapter."

"Right, we'll check it out."

"I'll stay here," the Doctor told them. "I think I can adapt the EMF readers you have to find anomalies in the-"

"Weirdness detectors,right." Dean interrupted what would have been a long explanation. "Good luck, Doc."

* * *

Sam entered the Publishing House alone because Dean was less than thrilled about meeting the world's only insulting detective again. In Dean's opinion it was never too early to begin sailing with Captain Morgan and Jack and that was much better than detecting.

"You're a tall fellow," a gravelly voice noted. "How about lending me a hand, eh?"

Dean looked to his right and saw an old man in faded overalls standing in a front garden with a pair of clippers in his hand. The old man pointed to a branch that was just out of his reach. Dean agreed to the small favor, because the man had promised a beer and snack out of it. To the old man's credit he looked harmless and lonely and not at all dangerious.

"This your place?" Dean asked as he popped open the bottle.

"Nah, they just pay me a small sum to keep the garden neat," the old man replied. "My doctor tells me it's good to get out and about on occasion."

He looked at Dean with a lazy eye. "You know anything about trees, lad?"

"They're green and they make fire wood." Dean deadpanned. The old man chuckled.

"And shade," the old man raised his bottle to the tree above them in salute. "Folks don't know a thing about trees and if I start to sound like a lorax, stop me."

Dean nodded and humored the old man.

"Beautiful things, trees." The old man sighed. "Needs to be more of them, but people want them to be certain shapes or certain types and then there's not enough old men to take care of them all."

"Why not just plant the damn things and let it grow how it wants," Dean suggested.

The old man shook his head. "Trees don't just grow, lad. Sure if you had a forest of them. Out of a thousand seeds something is bound to take root. One tree is a tough thing to keep alive."

The old man briefly took the time to explain the finer points of tree care. He talked a little bit about his forestry work in his youth how out of a thousand sapling maybe ten percent would survive the transplant. Regular people just didn't think about trees. The soil had to be right and the climate had to be right. The trees had to be protected from pests and trimmed. An argument could be made that in the wild trees didn't trim themselves, but in the city they didn't want branches smacking people in the face or falling on houses.

Then the old man talked about lazy afternoons sleeping on the forest floor on days when the rain finally broke. He talked about weeks spent working in cold downpours that lasted for days. The smooth feeling of drift wood. A trusty walking stick that he couldn't fit in his luggage so he had to leave it behind. Dean zoned out for a while as the man's memories flowed like water.

"I feel bad when I have to cut a healthy branch," the old man said. "It's not like losing a finger or anything, but still."

"Bordering on hippie tree hugger," Dean cautioned. He thought of something and cautiously asked, "Hey, did you read about that author that went missing?"

"Arthur Doyle?" The old man nodded. "Yes, I admire his work."

"Notice any secret messages in his work lately?"

The old man laughed, "No, nothing like that." He finished off his beer and stood up. "I was going to write a letter about it because I don't think they noticed, but they got some measurements wrong. My father was a preacher so I knew, but youngsters these days not knowing their bible is a sin in itself."

"How do you mean?"

* * *

"Noah's ark?" Sam repeated as switch his phone to his ear other ear so he could take notes.

"Yeah," Dean said as he thumbed through a beat up copy in a used bookstore. "Doyle got the measurements wrong."

"That would explain how Sherlock missed it," Sam agreed. "So we have our coordinates, but it might be too late."

"What? Why?"

"Doyle's chapter is late." Sam told him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Reading the Private Life is Fundamental**

Detective Inspector Lestrade grimly put down the receiver and looked at Sherlock. The consulting detective nodded. Based on the location revealed in the chapters the police had succeeded in finding Mr. and Mrs Doyle. Sherlock didn't need to say a word. He knew what state the author was in. The case, if one could even call it that anymore, had greatly annoyed him. That some minor biblical knowledge had been the key also rubbed the detective the wrong way. Obnoxiously, it was the Americans who had figured that part out.

He gave Lestrade a parting gesture and turned sharply to the exit. His flat was waiting and he had some sulking to do before his next case.

* * *

All too cheerfully the newscaster called the mystery resolved, but it was Sherlock Holmes who got all the credit. Arthur Conan Doyle had been found in a hotel, dead. His wife knew because she was the one who helped with the plan. Doyle wanted to test Sherlock's aptitude (as if his bout with Moriarty hadn't been proof enough for the nation) to see if the detective read his work and could find the clues before time ran out. The time keeper was the cancer cells slowly taking over the author's body. His daughter hadn't known, but after the case was solved she decided to continue her father's series in his honor.

Sam was understandably disappointed because they were no closer to solving their own problem. Dean didn't want to admit, but they needed help. He refused to admit it. Instead he kept fighting the whole drive over, but it had been a losing battle. A short while later Sam, the Doctor and reluctant Dean were enjoying a cup of tea on the sofas at 221 B Baker Street while the detective and side kick studied them carefully.

"So," Sherlock sat down across from them with his hands folded and a pretentious smirk gracing his expression. "Why have my competitors come to seek my services?"

"We're not detectives," Sam explained. "We're hunters."

"You could say," Dean said cautiously. "We handled the 'whatever remains however improbable' side of the investigation spectrum."

"You're con-men and hit men," Sherlock waved his hand to dismiss them. He pointed at the Doctor, "An he's ADHD. I suggest you stop wasting my time."

Dean stood up, "Listen here, jackass!"

"Dean!"

"Sam," Dean shot back. "There's no way we can explain this and not sound crazy! This douche bag is not going to help us."

"You come into my home and insult me and you wonder why I won't help you," Sherlock muttered. "Americans are so slow."

"Sherlock," John warned.

Dean glared at the detective, "First of all, it's the U.S. of A, asshole. You can't just lump two whole continents together. I am not Canadian and we do not have the queen on our money."

Sam rubbed this forehead and tried to think of a way to set the conversation back on track. Dean had a point. They were better off in an asylum with what they were trying sell. He looked over at the Doctor for help. The time lord took a breath and launched into the full explanation very quickly without giving Sherlock the chance to interrupt.

"Highly improbably," Sherlock told them when the Doctor finished. "The odds of you lot being crazy and suffering the same delusion is statistically more likely than being from another dimension."

"I can prove it." Sam said. "In our world, you're one of the most influential fictional characters of all time."

"Same," the Doctor agreed. "Therefore, we know things that nobody else knows. We can't all three be crazy and genius masterminds. Mathematically impossible."

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed indignantly.

Sherlock leaned back and crossed his arms. "Try me."

"You're parents were originally going to name you Sherrinford." The Doctor started.

John covered a snicker with a cough and tried not to look amused. Sherlock didn't try to deny it.

"Don't you have a job to get to, John?" Sherlock deflected irritably.

"Sherlock," John responded in all seriousness. "I make more money off my blog now than I would at a clinic. Looking out for you is pretty much my job now."

"You have an IQ of 190 points." Sam offered.

Sherlock struggled, "I wouldn't know. The tests were too boring for me to bother to finish. You're going to have to do better than that."

"You use baritsu as your preferred fighting style," the Doctor said. The alien snapped his finger. "Oh, and…" he motioned Sherlock to lean forward and whispered in his ear.

"How did you know that?" Sherlock demanded.

"Nerds!" Dean scoffed. "Believe it or not buddy, but we're telling the truth here."

"This isn't exactly my area gentlemen," Sherlock told them calmly, but they could see traces of uneasiness in his posture. "What do want me to do?"

* * *

Dean stretched as they walked back to the Impala illegally parked by the curb. The older Winchester grinned. "The geniuses do all the work while I kick back with a beer. Maybe this job isn't so bad after all." He looked at Sam meaningfully. "Doc said it would take them a few hours to work out the 'weirdness detector'. Wanna come with?"

"No thanks." Sam declined. "I'm going to a café. Research, Dean."

"Suit yourself." Dean shrugged and they parted ways.

To Sam's delight the lady from before as sitting at the same table enjoying a cup of tea like is was a religious experience. Sam sat down in front of her and the woman's eyes shined with recognition.

"Hello," she said politely. "Did you finish Arthur Doyle's work? What did you think?"

"Oh," Sam had been so focused on finding clues that he had ignored the stories themselves. "They were, um, interesting at least."

"His daughter is a talented writer herself," the woman explained and pulled out another book. "This one is my favorite. It's a teen novel, but I like it." She handed over the book for Sam to examine. The slender novella looked well read, but none of the pages were dog-eared. He read the back cover carefully. Like her father's stories, Ms. Doyle had a thing for the supernatural. "The story was about a college student who had an imaginary friend who wasn't so imaginary. Finn (meaning 'light haired') had always been able to see the supernatural and Blake (meaning 'dark hair') had always been with him. It just took Finn a while to figure out not everyone could see Blake. After years of ineffective treatment for schizophrenia Finn is 18 and finally free to figure out what he and Blake really are. However, the supernatural world isn't just going to sit around quietly."

"Guilty pleasure," Sam guessed.

The woman smiled in response, but her expression fell in apprehension when a young man in a white lab coat approached. Sam didn't think he looked old enough to be a doctor, but could possibly have been an intern at least. The young man was unshaven with brown hair and a distinctly pointed chin. His name badge said, "Riku Makoto" and he wore a cautious expression as he sized up Sam.

"A new friend?" he asked the woman.

The woman hid her face behind her tea cup and said grimly, "I'm allowed to have friends."

"Hi," Sam stood up to shake the man's hand, "I'm Sam. I'm on a family vacation and bumped into our mutual friend here." Sam said and prided himself on implying a past relationship with the woman without actually lying.

"Riku," the man returned the greeting. "Friend and doctor to said mutual acquaintance."

"Doctor?" Sam probed. The woman took in a loud, nervous breath and answered.

"I haven't mentioned it yet," she said. "Riku is interning at the hospital where I'm staying as a psychiatric patent. They think a walk now an again will help."

"You've made excellent progress," Riku confirmed.

"Oh, I see." Sam nodded sympathetically. "There's nothing to be ashamed about. I had a… rough patch a while back myself."

Riku studied him a moment and then hazarded a guess. "Addiction related?"

"Partly," Sam admitted. "The majority of it had to do with family history."

Riku gave him a sympathetic look and the woman seemed eager to change the subject. She tugged on her friend's sleeve and said, "Tell me what we're celebrating. You've been absolutely glowing for the past week."

The young doctor blushed and the woman raised a knowing eyebrow.

"Is it Kathy," she asked. She contemplated for a second and said, "You two aren't the type to get married unless…oh." She came to a grin worthy realization and patted her friend on the back. "Congratulations."

"I should be going," Sam said awkwardly and gathered his things. He tried not to feel disappointed by the woman's obvious elation to her friend's news. "I'll leave you two to celebrate."

The woman waved, "Bye, Sam. You should come see me again soon."

"Will do."

* * *

Much later Dean and Sam got a call the the Doctor's Weirdness Detector was ready. John had already taken the first prototype and hit the streets when the brother's arrived. When they got there, however, the Doctor realized there were a few slight modifications he needed to make before they could divide and make progress.

"What's taking so long," Dean complained as the Doctor fiddled with the EMF reader. Sam rolled his eyes and Sherlock just fiddled. The detective had already voiced several times the holes in their plan. First of all there were over 8 million people in London. There was noway on absent-god's green earth that they could find one supernatural creature among that many people.

The brother's merely retorted that they had bested worst odd before. They maintained the illusion that whatever it was they were looking for would make itself known to them one way or another. It wasn't about statistics; that was just how things happened. There were no such things as coincidences and Sherlock could at least agree with them on that point.

"I didn't account for our wavelengths." The Doctor explained as he tightened a screw with intense concentration. "We're not from this universe either. It's causing interference."

"Right, whatever doc," Dean sat down with a huff.

Sherlock set down his violin and addressed the older Winchester. "I don't see you doing anything useful. Frankly I still think you're all nutters and I can just ask John to drop you off. Psychology isn't is thing, but I'm sure he can make a recommendation."

"Yeah," Dean taunted. "I've met some psychopaths in my day, dude. You ain't the least bit scary with your posturing."

"Sociopath," Sherlock corrected and pulled out a laptop and at that moment John walked in with the Doctor's first prototype.

"I think I found him," John said. He set the device down and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through a couple pictures and showed them to Sherlock who began muttering observations. The brothers glanced over John's shoulder and saw a picture of a young man in a white lab coat.

"Hey, that guy looks familiar," Dean said.

"Riku Makoto?" Sam's voice pitched up slight surprise.

"Coincidence my ass." Dean quipped.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Something Old, Something New**

After checking up on the information Sherlock had acquired about their mystery, Doctor Sam had to admit that he was impressed. The Riku guy had quite the case load and still managed to take pretty young patients out to lunch every week. Dean wasn't so sure though. He came back to the hideout grumbling and smacking his palm against the Doctor's device.

"Something isn't right," He said. "Are you sure this thing works?"

So far they were able to confirm that Dean saw the young doctor at the park, Sam saw him at the café, and John confirmed meeting with him while visiting a soldier. Sherlock's homeless network had seen the man out and about with a few other people as well.

"It's no different then your EMF readers," the Doctor told him. "It picks up weirdness stuff."

"I broke into the guy's apartment and there's nothing." Dean said. "It didn't so much as a pixiestick. Damn thing didn't beep"

John crossed his arms and thought for a moment. "What if it's not him?"

The turned to look at him.

"It could be one of his patients," John suggested.

Sherlock fumed a little bit, "This is all a little out of my area, but that sounds reasonable."

"Right, why are you still here again?" Dean asked the consulting detective with a disapproving tone.

"Because I can read people," Sherlock replied. "I'm not stupid, like you. If there's something-" he waved his hands erratically, "-weird, as you say, then I'll spot it."

"Let's check out the hospital then," John brought them back to the actual subject at hand. "They'll let me in."

"You were going to make a joke about us being nutters, weren't you?" Sherlock was neither unimpressed nor amused.

"You have no idea how tempting it was," John told his friend.

"Where did you get all this info anyway?" Sam asked and motioned to the patient records laid out across the floor.

"I was already investigating the hospital for an insurance scam case," Sherlock said.

"You know that violates about a dozen privacy laws, Sherlock." John scolded.

"I'll plead insanity upon my arrest," the detective quipped.

* * *

Before they went anywhere near a nuthouse Dean needed a drink. He ignored Sam's bitch-face and mutters about alcoholism and walked to the store. On the way, however, Dean bumped into the tree-loving old man again. This time the guy was examining a flower bed with a look of intense study and concentration.

"Hey, how's it going?" Dean approached cautiously, but friendly.

"Oh, hello again." The old man greeted distractedly. "I was just looking at this lovely azalea. See? Note the slight discoloration here?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. It's almost purple."

"A genetic defect and an absolute marvel." The old man said, "What a pity."

"Pity?" Dean asked.

"In order to maintain the integrity of the flowerbed it'll have to be removed." The man explained, "It has no place here."

Dean was about to reply, "What a shame," but he was cut off when the man turned and faced him with a particular look in his eye.

"You also have no place here, Dean Winchester."

Dean froze and was suddenly very aware how many venerable civilians there were on the busy street. If the…whatever it was attacked him he wasn't sure anybody else wouldn't get hurt.

"You can't save everyone, Dean." Like it could read his mind the creature disguised as an old man warned, "You should pick your battles more wisely.

"So what are you?" Dean tried to act casual. "Some doppelganger or something? You take the form of a person and if they meet themselves they die? That was you I saw the other day when the kid got hit."

"You see me as an old man now," the creature replied with a smirk. "But your friend might have a different point of view."

Dean turned his head and saw Sherlock approach. Whatever the detective saw in his eyes was enough for Sherlock to know to pick up the pace. Dean turned back to the old man, thing, but he/it had already taken off in the other direction. Dean cursed and gave chase with Sherlock only a few beats behind.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked when he caught up.

"If we can nab the bastard, we can ask him." Dean snapped. Sherlock nodded and took the lead.

"Spry for an old fella," Dean muttered. "It must have known we were getting close."

The creature made a sharp turn down an alley with Sherlock right behind, but as soon as the detective turned the corner the figure was gone.

"It's abnormally fast," Sherlock complained as he looked around the dead end alley way. "A shapeshifter?"

"Nah," Dean shook his head. "I don't know of anything that can shift that fast. We're going off of nothing here."

"How does this usually work for you?" Sherlock asked as he knelt down looking for signs.

"Our kind of thing always leaves a trail." Dean told him and looked for clues of his own. "Bodies, missing persons, mysterious cattle deaths. We follow the trail and gank the mother. Hunters have been doing their thing for a thousand years. If it's something we haven't seen chances are somebody else has, so we hit the books."

"Or," Sherlock suggested. "We check the most obvious place to look."

* * *

"Here we are," John said as they pulled into a parking space. "St Dorothea's hospital."

"Why did we all have to come again?" Dean grumbled as all five men stumbled out of his car.

"Intuition," Sherlock replied. "Think about it."

Dean didn't bother to take the detective's cryptic advice and just locked up his car, grumbling as John lead the way inside.

Unfortunately, Riku Makoto wouldn't be in until the afternoon. John already had a list of the young intern's patents. The Doctor had his weirdness-detector ready. The checked the patients one by one, but so far, the hospital was clean.

"No, it's definitely here." Dean said. "Did you see that garden? There's something going on here. And that thing kept talking to me about plants."

"So what?" Sam asked. "Did king O'Brian lose his gardener?"

"Where's the Sherlock?" John asked suddenly.

* * *

Sherlock circled the medical bed very slowly like it was a tiger sitting on the bed instead of a young girl. She was dressed all proper, too proper Sherlock had realized, almost like she was dressed for her own funeral. That was what had tipped him off. At funerals the living dressed in black, but the corpse was dressed in their best garments. At the moment, though, the girl looked very much alive.

"This isn't a children's ward," Sherlock said.

The girl smiled, "Oh, I know."

"You're not a child," Sherlock guessed.

"Not for a long, long time." She agreed.

"You're the one I saw Dean chasing." Sherlock clapped his hands slowly in appreciation. "A mental hospital. The perfect cover. No one would think twice."

"Flattery," the creature purred. "But I assure you I'm most definitely a few cards short of a full deck. Not quite all there. Bats in the belfries and all that." The creature looked to the door. "Oh, hello doctor."

John walked in the room and stared at the creature in recognition. "You're the soldier. The one from the other day."

"Yes."

"Soldier? She's-" Sam gasped.

"Oh, how interesting." Sherlock interrupted.

The creature looked first at Dean, "Thank you for keeping me company in the park," and then looked at Sam. "And the café."

"We're each looking at the same thing but seeing a different person." Sherlock concluded.

"It's a perception filter." The Doctor leaned against the door casually. "We actually are seeing the exact same thing, just different versions of it."

"And that is?" Dean growled.

The creature closed its eyes and said. "The next person you are unable to save."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

"How is that possible?" Sherlock whispered.

The Doctor waved a hand nonchalantly and explained, "The same way you would fit an ocean into a swimming pool."He pointed to the creature and said, "Ocean." Then waving his arm to indicate the world, "Swimming pool."

"By filling up more than one swimming pool," Sherlock tagged onto the Doctor's explanation. "Occupying multiple dimensions at once."

"The multiverses are not like bubbles." The creature told them. "I always thought they were more like trees. I was always fond of trees. The difference between you and me is I know what's on the other side of every door."

It was Dean who finally saw the pattern. He grabbed the Doctor by his collar and shoved the skinny man up again the wall. "You son of a bitch! You knew?!"

"Dean!" Sam tried to hold his brother back.

"King O'Brian is not a fairy," the Doctor confirmed.

"Did it ever cross your mind to share this vital piece of information from the beginning?" Dean demanded. "Now we're stuck here!"

The creature cleared its throat. "He seeks to destroy me, his greatest failure who destroyed his family," the creature said gravely. "That's why you were sent here. Not to aid the fairy king, but to find me."

"Don't." The Doctor warned. "Just don't."

Ignoring the alien's pleas the creature continued to explain. "I can't send you home, but I can open a door to the fairy realm and take you with me."

"Stop it!"

"I can take you to where my teacher, my master, is." '_Where he'll be waiting to finally destroy me'_ was left unsaid, but everyone hear it hidden in the creature's tone. The Doctor visibly paled. "All you have to do is ask."

The Doctor broke out of Dean's grip and shook the creature by its shoulders. "And by doing that you'll doom us all. Every second he's distracted hunting you, another world is spared from annihilation."

The creature looked at him with a serious expression, "Some would argue that not all worlds should be allowed to blossom."

"But you don't believe that." The Doctor sighed, "I was hoping that the humans would become accustomed to staying here."

The creature raised and eyebrow. "And yourself?" it asked doubtfully.

"I would have found away." The alien muttered.

The creature titled its head, "You see my true form don't you? It's because your next person is _me_."

"Not to ruin the moment, guys." Sam interjected. "But what the hell is going on here?"

Long story made short? Life sucked. The creature (because Sam didn't know what else to call it) could take them back to Fairy World, which would get them out of the Neutral Zone at least, but for the creature it would mean certain death. The creature's mentor, the being responsible for awarding the creature its superpowers, would be waiting to end a very long and dangerous cat and mouse game.

The creature had hoped that by taking refuge in the Neutral Zone its teacher would follow and they could resolve their differences like "civilized beings". Even they were not completely immune to the "humans only" rule, but it would have limited the destruction that resulted from their conflict.

"I was hoping for an old fashioned saber duel, myself," the creature confessed.

"Right, but were the crayon diagrams really necessary?" Dean asked and pointed to the line of white poster board with stick figures drawn on it.

"…I suck at drawing okay!" The creature tore up the posters quickly. "Crayons were all I had!"

"And I'm telling you this is a bad idea." The doctor said firmly. "Are you two so keen on going back to your ordinary, monster filled lives that you'll use any means to do it?"

"I am worried, though." The creature confessed. "What if you lot aren't the only ones? How many more will he send after me?"

"I'm assuming you have a type." Dean drawled.

The creature groaned, "But I can't just leave! You don't understand. This is the only one left."

"The only one, what?" Sam asked noting that the creature suddenly looked panicked and shaken.

Tearing up the creature mourned, "I want to stay..." The creature covered a sob with its hand. "This is the only place left. I've looked everywhere else and this is the only one."

"What is it?"

On the verge of breaking down the creature confessed, "This is the only world left where Riku is still my friend."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Sympathy for the Asylum **

The Doctor said it was too dangerous. The creature didn't so much mind dying as parting with the last version of a friend who was still a friend. Dean didn't care any less, but he couldn't leave Cas behind and he couldn't give up the hunting life. He needed to go home.

Dean found the creature sitting on a stone bench in the mental ward's garden. With out a doubt the creature had a hand in the upkeep of the plants' beauty. Each plant was carefully trimmed in a way that accented the greenery's unique characteristics and kept the garden as a whole in harmony. Attention to detail had been the key, but managing a garden was one thing. Overseeing the health and structure of entire worlds was another matter entirely. Was it right to treat worlds like rose bushes that needed to be shaped and cut or was it better to let them grow wild and multiply?

"So," Dean said as he sat down.

"A needle pulling thread?" The creature replied.

"What? No! I was-"

The creature cut in, "I know what you meant."

An awkward silence ensued.

"You can ask me anything, Dean." The creature told him. "It would only serve as poor entertainment to lie to you."

"What are you?"

"I was human. Now I'm complicated. Like Castiel with a belly full of souls." The creature watched reaction his reaction carefully. "Sore spot I know, but the process is very much the same. My teacher came to me and offered power. Now I can't even remember why I accepted. It cost me everything in return."

"When Cas took on the souls of purgatory he went insane and killed a bunch of people," Dean shot back. "Is that what you did too?"

The creature nodded, "In the end you wake up, realize what you've done, and wish for death only to discover that even his blade cannot harm you." The creature leaned forward to rest its elbows on its knees. "But that's not what you really wanted to ask me, is it?"

The question was met with more silence, but the creature could easily guess what was on the Winchester's mind.

"In how many worlds does little Sammy grow up to be a lawyer? Quite a few actually, with the occasional doctor, teacher, and firefighter for good measure." The creature said. "Those details are superficial."

"The angels did this…timeloop thing." Dean began.

"More the Doctor's area, not mine." The creature warned.

"I met my mom and dad when they were younger. I lead them to the yellow-eyed demon." Dean rubbed his face. "If I hadn't-"

"Then someone else would have drawn Abasil-"

"Azazel." Dean corrected.

"Whatever. If not you, then Sam or another angel." The creature rested what was supposed to be a comforting hand on Dean's bicep. "They all wanted the apocalypse to happen and acted accordingly."

"How do you know?"

The creature covered one eye and concentrated. "I can still see them." It said, "While I can't tell the future, but I can guess what might have happened by peaking into parallels to your world. Events that are triggered earlier or later cause a shift in the timeline. Like a comic book being updated for a modern audience."

Dean nodded.

"That's what destiny means," the creature told him. "No matter who makes it, the choice is always the same."

Dean asked quietly, "But I told the bastards 'no'. I told Michael to kiss my-"

"Because that too was your destiny," The creature interjected. "It's not _destiny's_ fault the angels of your world have pigeon brains." The creature studied him carefully.

"What?" Dean asked when the staring became uncomfortable.

"Nothing, think I like you." The creature grinned. "But I like to bully my friends. It makes them stronger."

Dean gave the creature an annoyed look. "Explains why you don't have any."

The creature chuckled. "There are worlds where you are human. There are worlds where you are an angel and there are worlds where you're a demon… but the things that make you, well, _you_ don't change." The creature paused and looked down ashamed. "I can't… I'm not strong enough reshape a world. I can only watch them or destroy them. It's kind of annoying."

"Destiny deals everybody a bad hand. Join the club." Dean assured the creature. "We got t-shirts and coasters."

"I was a soldier and a pretty crappy one, too, before the whole- you know." The creature did a weird hand motion that was supposed to mean something. "My fellow soldiers became my family. Their characters were flawed as hell, but I was in good company." The creature inhaled and added. "…I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Dean asked.

"For being unable to stop you from making the same mistake that I made." The creature replied.

"You said you couldn't see the future."

"Older doesn't make you wiser." It said. "It just makes you more set in your ways. You have things you want to protect. Time will make you weaker instead of stronger. To compensate for this I have no doubt you will do something very, very foolish."

Dean growled. "There's nothing wrong with protecting my family and my friends."

"Protect them from what exactly?" The creature snapped. "People live, they suffer, and then they die. You can't stop that from happening and believe me, I have _tried_."

"Yeah, well I'm not you." With rude gesture in reply Dean stormed off. After a moment Sam took his brother's place on the bench.

"You're definitely brothers." The creature mumbled.

"You shouldn't mess with his head like that." Sam said.

"I don't want him getting any stupid ideas." The creature's head shot up. "Like what you're thinking right now."

"How is wanting a monster-free life stupid?" Sam inquired.

"The monsters you fight are just one variety. Humans can be just as bad," the creature warned. "I'm not a demon. I don't make deals. It's too risky and I'm far too inexperienced. Any interference I make will run the risk of ruining the integrity of the universe. If I try to _'fix it'_" the creature did the air quote thing. "So that your world is monster-free I could- …I don't know…_accidently_ erase the fairer half the species at the same time. Is that what you want? A world without monsters _and_ women? Do seven eyes, men with breasts, and pig's feet sound fun to you?"

"No, not really." Sam shook his head. "That bad? You're really not selling yourself short?"

"I'm pretty sure you're not gonna like what would happen if I start playing operation with your universe." The creature said firmly. "Think bad fanfiction with more kinks than a garden hose and that's probably the _best_ case scenario."

Sam flinched at the idea. "Even if you can't change things, maybe we can from the inside. Maybe the Doctor or Cas can help us."

"That's a slippery slope Sam." The creature's voice took on a darker tone. "You start thinking what if and padded rooms start looking mighty cozy. No really. The décor really grows on you."

"Just give me something. Please." Sam went full on puppy eyes and the creature groaned. "If you can see the past then you know. You can tell me the first domino or something."

"You are a true Winchester." The creature reiterated. "You're brother takes more after your mother's side of the family, but you are very much like your father-"

"I'm not my dad."

"I wasn't referring to temperaments." The creature snapped back. "Most of John's more _charming_ habits can be traced to his father… or lack thereof in any case. He always believed his own father just took off. That pain was never healed." The creature scoffed. "Generally speaking Henry Winchester, your paternal grandfather, would never _willingly_ abandon his son."

"You're saying something happened to him?" Sam tensed. "Like our mom's relatives? Dad's family was-"

"_Regardless_ of the circumstances," the creature cut in. "It is John Winchester's lack of _faith_ in his _father_ that makes him the man he is. …sorry, I mean _was_. That is your first domino. Tell me, how do you plan to change that exactly?"

Sam thought very hard for a moment.

"Do you see the similarities now, Winchester?" The creature asked in a mocking tone. "Where is the faith in your father? What happens when your surrogate father, your _brother_, proves he is no more than a man like any other?"

"I know Dean is only human." Sam drawled.

"Do you really? No bias whatsoever? No hero worship at all?"

"Wait, this isn't about us," Sam guessed. "This is about the angels, isn't it?"

The creature giggled. "It can be. As it is in Heaven, so it shall be on Earth. Be grateful you only have one sibling- Oh, wait."

There was another awkward silence.

The creature cleared its throat. "Fun fact: Sexual orientation is determined by environmental factors and thus yours varies from world to world."

"Huh?" Sam scratched his head. "Then what about soul-mates and such?"

"_Soul mate_," The creature recited. "_Noun; a person who is perfectly suited to another in temperament or who strongly resembles another in attitudes. First known usage in 1988._" The creature tilted its head. "It has absolutely nothing to do with copulation or physical chemistry. In fact it's very rare to find-" Air quotes again "soul mates' who become _lovers_. Your soul mate is the person you share a lifelong bond with. To call it love or friendship would actually devalue the significance of the connection."

"How do you even know all this stuff?"

"I can analyze a world cluster in the time it takes you to skim a Reader's Digest." The creature smirked.

"World cluster?"

"Worlds of a similar structure like to group together." The creature covered one eye again. "I just have to focus on the traits I'm looking for. I could watch them for hours, but it's not just that. When you watch a sunset you're in awe of the visual aspect. When I see a world I actually _feel_ it. The energy, the emotions, everything like a junky's first hit."

"You could show me." Sam pressed.

The creature shook its head. "It's not an RPG, Sam. It's life. At the end of yours your suffering ends. Let that be enough. Not all universe have a greats hits album as the consolation prize-" the creature's words are cut of. Still looking at the web of worlds the creature shakes and whimpers.

Sam stood up in alarm. "What is it?"

"Shit!" The creature coughs as blood drips from her good eye and mouth. Her eyes glaze over. "S-sorry," it stammered. "I-I-I haven't… since coming to the neutral zone I-"

The creature's voice becomes thick and heavy as she babbled, swept up by what she sees. Worlds upon worlds, whole galaxies and universes dancing and splitting. Love and hatred, peace and wars, chaos in its most magnificent form. The creature reached out and its mortal skin peels away as it reached through space and time.

"Ah," the creature gasped as the energy stung her being. Then she saw it. Her favorite flavor of existence that was sweet in every way. It called like an addiction, but the Neutral Zone was absolute in its purity and she could not break through the veil between worlds. In frustration the creature screamed.

* * *

**A/N: Uhg, so much exposition. I am so sorry. Chapter 8 is always a curse no matter what I write. This one had to be broken up into two chapters.**

**PS: Feedback leads to higher quality. Hint hint.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Soul Food**

The intern, Riku, checked the creature's vitals again before sliding the stethoscope back down on his neck. Next to him John and Sam were waiting patiently. The other three (the ones who looked the most suspicious) had made themselves scarce while the two "normal ones" had been able to smudge up a half baked cover story. It had helped that Riku had already met Sam and John previously.

"I thought the episodes were getting fewer and fewer." Riku gave Sam a comforting pat on the shoulder. "She should wake up in a few hours."

"She's in a coma?" John had picked up the Riku also saw the creature in a female form. Sam wondered how none of the hospital staff had noticed the creature's perception filter was showing them a different person. He chalked it up to the fact that people in the Neutral Zone didn't actually need "saving" on a regular basis. Sam would have to ask the creature more details about her abilities, namely why they weren't nullified by the Neutral Zone.

When it was clear that the creature wouldn't wake for a while they agreed to take watch in shifts. Almost twenty hours later the creature woke spiting up blood and gasping.

Dean looked up from his carefully disguised adult reading material. "What the hell?"

"My master…" The creature snarled. "He is trying to prove a point. He calls them mercy cuts."

Dean scrunched up his nose. "Did you suddenly hear a million voices cry out in horror only to be silenced, Obi Wan?"

The creature gave him a dirty look.

Dean frowned. "Please tell me you understand that reference."

"I'm familiar with every incarnation of George Lucas's creations." The creature made a familar sign with her hand. "I'm a Trekkie."

Dean chuckled. "Do I make an awesome jedi?"

"There is no world where you are a jedi." The creature shrugged.

"What the hell? Then they should make one," Dean looked mildly scandalized.

The creature frowned. "I'm sorry. I'll get my people right on that. Oh wait. They're all **dead** because I killed them after they went darkside." Even the bed was saturated by the creature's sarcasm.

"Can you really take us back?" Dean asked in all seriousness. "No fine print, no nothing?"

"Well you can't stay here," the creature replied with a defeated expression. "It violates the very laws of… everything."

"Like that's not hypocritical."

"I didn't come here to live, Dean." The creature drawled. "I only wanted to witness my friend's happiness. He's my Sammy, Dean."

Dean scrutinized the creature for a moment. "You think universes are sacred no matter how misshapen curses or broken they are right?"

"Of course."

"Then you better not let that bastard win." He told the creature firmly. "And I'm sorry your friend or whatever never forgave you."

"Me too," the creature sighed sensing were the conversation was going. Then the creature hopped out of bed.

"Woah," Dean gripped the creature's shoulder. "Should you be up?"

The creature's eyes flashed. "The Neutral Zone is merely draining my powers, returning me to my human form. We're low on time."

Dean's eyes widened as the creature shifted once more. This time the creature stood just over 5 feet (153 cm) tall. Long red hair tided back by a black bandanna reached the center of her back like a fox's tail. Her clothes had morphed into a blue turtleneck top, black pants, and army boots. She was a harmless looking specimen except for the black patch covering one eye.

"I figured I would take a form we could all agree on." The creature explained. "The Doctor is going to be very unhappy, though."

* * *

The Doctor was very unhappy. Sam was mildly surprised. Sherlock was mildly amused. John was immune. Together they came up with a plan of action. Chess was an easy game once you understood how units could be utilized. Even the creature had faint hope that with the help of the most brilliant minds and the luckiest bastards of the known existence that they might stand a chance.

Before they could implement their plan, however, they needed to get out of the Neutral Zone.

"That's the easiest part," the creature assured them.

The creature rode in the back of the impala with the Doctor. Sherlock and John took another car and followed behind. The creature passed the drive engaging the Doctor in an intense debate. Unfortunately English wasn't good enough and the two decided hash out their differences in a hushed dialect not of Earth. The conversation appeared rather heated and much to Dean's annoyance the radio kept frizzing out. Every time a Led Zeppelin song came the radio signal would mysteriously disappear or switch mid song. The song "The Weight" came on way too often and Def Leppard kept popping up.

Finally Dean had enough and shouted, "How about you two share with the rest of the class?"

The creature tilted its head. "The only way to stop my master is to kill my master."

"Killing someone for doing their job isn't good practice." The Doctor replied.

"His job is to kill me and eliminate unnecessary universes." The creature replied. "Who decides if they're unnecessary? He does. No checks. No balances."

"So you're saying there are unnecessary worlds." Sam said flatly.

"According to company policy, yes," the creature countered. "Roughly ninety percent actually."

"And the other ten?"

The creature smirked. "Ten percent are worth dying for. Luckily I'm all about equal rights."

Dean groaned. "Okay, somebody is going to have to explain this to me a little bit better."

The creature rolled her eyes. "A hypothetical question: Which world is worth saving? Your world where people die daily thanks monsters or a world without the supernatural death tolls, but where you two are the human equivalent of a monster?"

The Winchesters could vividly imagine what a human-monster would be like. "I would never-"

"Do not presume anything," the creature warned. "Without going into the complexities of morality and environmental triggers in a sample size of 1,000,000 worlds over two hundred-thousand would meet the condition I just mentioned. Almost twenty percent." The creature eased back a little. "Fortunately, because of your inherent nature the majority would still be favorable. Seventy-two percent is the magic percentage, but not the probability. Human nature contains many dark elements and there is no force that can change that. But you, Sam and Dean, are good people. Don't ever forget that."

"But using us a sort of measuring stick wouldn't tell you about the world overall." Sam pointed out.

"Actually, it would." The creature explained, "In what can be considered a good world, the goodness in good people is exemplified more than usual. In a bad world good men do unspeakable things. Using men and women of character as markers is one viable method of determining a world's worth."

"Murder and rape happen in every world." Sam said. "Are those people just bad people then?"

The creature sighed. "You're right, I'm oversimplifying my explanation, but that's exactly my point on why I resist my expected role in all this. Who am I to decide what worlds live and die? Who is my master that he thinks he knows what's best? That is why he must be stopped."

"There are additional flaws in your explanation," the Doctor intruded. "Guardians don't measure by death tolls. They measure in souls."

The creature groaned, but permitted the doctor his explanation. For the brothers it was an easy enough concept to grasp. In their world there was Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. "Good" souls went to Heaven, "bad" souls went to Hell, and monsters went to Purgatory. As far as the brothers knew Heave was a place where you got to relive your greatest hits and Hell was where you were tortured and turned into a demon. It never occurred to them to ask why that is.

"Holy shit," Sam swore. "You mean it's like the Matrix?"

"I hate that movie." The creature grumbled. "But basically, yes. In most universes human souls are awesome little battery packs that keep the universe functioning. Sun to plants, plants to people/animals, people to emotions, emotions to soul, soul to the afterlife, and so on up the chain in an energy ladder. It takes the equivalent of sixteen trillion seven hundred eighty seven billion four hundred fifty one million one hundred eighteen thousand one hundred forty seven mortal souls to maintain my existence."

"Holy shit."

"Where do gods fit in all this?" Sam asked curiously.

"Bureaucracy." The creature said. "Humans cannot conceive of a god greater than themselves which is why most gods act like unruly children. Deities are simultaneously participants in the world and also above it like actors in a play and once they exit the stage they return to themselves."

"Which is happening at an alarming rate," the Doctor added. "The Time Wars disturbed not just one universe, but caused a ripple effect."

"There's no such thing as an isolated event, Doctor." The creature reminded before sitting up strait. "We're here."

* * *

"Are you out of your mind?!" Sam yelled over the ocean spray.

"What's the matter boys?" The creature called back. "Scared of a little adventure?"

"The Cliffs of Dover? Really?" John mumbled.

"I was expecting Stone Henge," Dean admitted.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with a stone calendar?" The creature grandly waved to the cliff's edge. "This is where the magic happens."

"This had better be worth the two hours of Neil Young." Dean warned the creature. "You freaking changed my tapes! I should throw you off a cliff as a matter of principle."

The creature made rock 'n roll gesture. "Keep on rockin' the free world, babe. I had to see if my mojo still worked. Transporting people is easy enough, but you wanted to keep the freaking car so this is what we got."

The creature and the Doctor had already explained that moving between worlds leaves a scar. The creature had a plan to make sure nobody could fall through accidentally and any unwanted pollution from other worlds wouldn't be a problem. The creature did not elaborate on what that pollution might be.

"Wait for my signal," the creature commanded. She spreads out her hands like Moses and the ocean calms to become smooth as glass. The creature's heart or heart equivalent flutters in excitement as it always did before a leap. Moving through worlds always felt like free-falling until the creature could get its bearings. The excitement of a new world with unfamiliar and familiar commingling in a warped symphony of circumstance spurred the creature forward. A leap followed a dash and off the cliff the creature went towards certain death.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: The Anti-Climax and the Anti-Villain**

The same sensations as before overwhelmed Sam's senses as blackness surrounded him. It had been a literal leap of faith to follow the creature over the cliffs in the Impala. The way back to fairyland felt the same and once again the brother's woke up to the sweet smell and bright colors. John and Sherlock had more amusingly shocked reactions.

When Sam gained complete awareness he saw a huge shadow pluck the creature from the grass and hoist the tiny form skyward. _A Cuthulu_, Sam thought. He was mostly correct minus the octopus-like features and association with dark gods. If it wasn't for the supreme overwhelming awesome of the master's presence, Sam would have been less likely to associate the creature's master with Lovecraft's creations. What they had on their hands was a very pissed off bureaucrat. OSHA rules didn't apply as he shook his unruly student like a Spanish musical instrument.

"I see you succeeded in your mission." King O'Brian appeared and the ground shook a little bit as the combatants struggled. He watched the struggle with mild interest. "I knew you lot had it in you."

"What are we supposed to do?" John asked in concern. His soldier's calm had taken over. Likewise Sherlock was studying the situation looking for an advantage of some sort. Something appeared to be puzzling the detective.

"What would you normally do in this kind of situation?" King O'Brian asked and examined his nails casually.

"Demon traps, angelic seals," Sam listed their usual go-to methods. "There's always something."

The Doctor shook his head. "Not always, but we can still try."

Sherlock clapped his hands, "Oh! Oh, clever girl!"

The king tilted his head looking somewhat offended. "Excuse me?"

"Us," Sherlock reasoned. "It's not what we can do, but us. Souls or whatever. That's their power right?"

The king nodded, "Yes, but you lot won't be enough. Noble souls you may be, but he…" The king jerked his head in the direction of the master. "He has consumed whole worlds. What power could you lot possibly have?"

"We're the last piece." Sherlock's eyes grew hard. "We're the ones that make the choice. As you like to put it, we're the first domino. I imagine everything else has already been arranged."

The Doctor paled. "We're the ones that close the loop. It's too late."

"It's never too late," the king replied. "I only asked you to retrieve the little one. Our bargain still stands. You may still take your processions and go now if you want."

It was a lie and Sam knew it. The king was hiding something.

"What do we need to do?" Dean asked cautiously. "Why does this feel like some sort of angel deal where we say 'yes' to being strapped to a comet?"

O'Brian chuckled. "Honey, I ain't no angel." The king gave the Doctor a wink. "Merely a formality, Doctor, but I still have to ask."

The Doctor sighed in defeat. "Ask away."

"I'm not offering up my soul," Sam said firmly.

"Nobody's asking you to." The king snorted. "If you agree to help the creature reality stay exactly as it is. Nothing will change."

"What?"

The King pointed to each of the men in turn, "You still get shot. You're still autistic. You still play grand thief auto with a box. You're mom still dies. Nothing changes."The king explained. "The price has already been paid. By agreeing the creature lives and you don't lose or gain anything, but if you refuse and the loop is broken then things start changing."

"Change how?" Dean inquired hopefully.

The fairy shrugged. "I don't know. The word 'soul' doesn't mean 'life', it means _pride_. It's that little extra oomph that makes miracles happen especially at the very beginning. I'm not asking for the whole package, just the itty bitty drop of potential that could have given you an A on a second grade spelling test for all I know. Miracles come in all shapes and sizes. So you grew up missing a few. It's not too late to get them back."

The boys had to stop and process that for a minute.

"Why do you want to help the creature?" Sam asked. "What's in it for you?"

"Trust me," the king's eyes narrowed. He glanced up to make sure the two combatants were still preoccupied before saying, "The little one's survival is of _great_ interest to me and like with you, my price is already paid."

"Okay." Sam agreed. "Nothing changes?"

"Well, we get to kill a giant dick." The king grinned. "When is that never a good day? I need your verbal confirmation."

"Yes," they all agreed.

"Excellent." The king rubbed his little hands together and an electric storm began forming around them.

* * *

The creature continued to struggle against its master, but the sudden energy surge caught her attention. The master wasn't paying attention. There was nothing in existence powerful enough to do him harm and at long, long last he had his unruly student, his greatest failure, in his grasp. He wasn't about the let this chance for closure get away.

The creature cringed and tried to metaphorically gasp for enough air, enough power, to convey the immediate danger. Despite everything he was still her teacher and mentor and the last thing resembling family she had left. The barest shred of loyalty made her cry, "Master, look out!" just a hair's breath too late.

The king's weapon was cleaner than an atomic bomb and far more effective by sharpening to a single point in a sword-like shape. The master turned just in time to watch the blade stab him in the back. His form rippled and collapsed. All parties fell to the ground and in the king's hand rested a black orb of pure energy. It was all that remained of the master.

A stunned hush ensued.

Staring up at the king warily from where she had fallen the creature asked, "What do you intend to do with that?"

The king cocked his head, "Why? Because it's too much energy for one person? Because this power corrupts everything it touches? Hmm you do have a point, but I must assure my victory at all costs. You would do well to remember that." With that said the king shoved the orb into the creature's chest. She screamed out as the energy fused and became a part of her.

"You," the creature growled when the ordeal was over. "You killed him…your own teacher…"

"It took millions of years for me to gather the energy needed." The king shrugged. "Not only to end him but to disguise my trap. It fooled even you, but then again I knew it would."

"Because that," Sherlock interrupted excitedly and pointed to the creature. "That's you. That's a younger you."

"Ding, ding." The king drawled. "Give the man a medal."

"And you're not a fairy king. O'Brian was a ruse." Sam snorted. "Wow. I should have…"

"I go by Kaygo, usually." The former fairy held out a hand and shifted to a taller and familiar form. The two creatures looked exactly alike. "Kaygo Lore."

She looked so tiny, but the boys weren't fooled. It was like looking at a single drop of the ocean. She was there, but most of her was spread across the worlds causing havoc. The initial threat was over, but balance had yet to be restored.

"That's great. Now give me back my-" The Doctor started before Kaygo snapped her fingers and the blue box appeared.

"TARDIS!" The Doctor said gleefully.

Kaygo patted the box affectionately. "We had a nice little chat, this old girl and I… well, technically I'm older, but you know what I mean. She gave me some excellent advice in running away. I just had to make sure to take good care of her funny little man."

"I still can't believe it." Sam muttered. "That's it? We just go home like nothing happened?"

"The knowledge of multiple universes does jack squat 365.4 days out of the year." Kaygo said. "Right Castiel?"

The angel stepped out behind the Doctor's blue box and appeared to be sulking. When he saw the brothers he instantly perked up. "Dean? Sam? Are you two all right?"

"No." Dean growled. He moved to stand next to Cas.

Sam stared at his brother in confusion. "Dean, what?"

Sherlock also moved into a defensive position. "Do you think so as well, Doctor?"

"I would be the logical expert in this case." The Doctor agreed.

Kaygo grinned. "I knew I liked you boys. I'm just borrowing one of your tricks, Doctor. I should think you'd be flattered."

The Doctor asked, "How much time has passed?"

"For me? 1.5 billion years since I jumped off that cliff."

Cas moved his arm to restrain Dean from doing something stupid.

"It's too dangerous," Cas warned. Sam looked over and realized the angel was stiff, standing too rigidly to be normal even for Cas.

"She's a monster, Cas. We have to stop her." Dean told him. "These deals with no price sound like bullshit to me."

"Direct confrontation will _not_ work." Cas insisted. "We can't change the past."

What was fairy world began to turn dark and sour like rotting fruit. The disguise was no longer needed. Likewise Kaygo's demeanor also began to look more sinister.

"Now, now there's no need to throw a fuss." Kaygo turned to her younger self who was snarling and straining against the energy surging inside. It would take time for the power to be absorbed completely. In the meantime the mortals were sitting ducks.

"I know that power. I can _smell_ it on you." The creature circled what she would become with tears streaming down her face. "You animal! How could you just take it? Those are people's souls!"

"Don't be immature." Kaygo scolded. "I only borrowed a drop here and there. It's not like I devoured the whole thing." She then corrected. "Well one or two, maybe. Believe it or not a little travesty now and again makes people stronger."

"You stole pieces of their happiness." The younger creature accused.

"Shhhhh, shhhhhh, _borrowed_." Kaygo soothed. "I merely borrowed. Will the full intent of giving back."

"Cas, what's going on?" Dean whispered.

"Using souls as an energy source isn't a new concept."

"Thanks Morpheus, care to elaborate?" Dean growled.

"_Élan vital,_" The Doctor said. "If you'll excuse my French. It's like your concept of a soul. You could think of it as pure power. It's a push for progress. It brings people together. Makes people change and evolve. It's a drive to learn and grow. Borrowing someone's Élan vital, even for a few moments-"

"Would cause unimaginable suffering," the creature finished. "It's not just a cock block, you could have prevent lovers from ever meeting. Children are never born." The creature peers into the cosmos and rippled with the pain she saw.

Kaygo grins. "You'll get over it. You're welcome, by the way, for not being dead."

"And that makes it worth it?" The creature demanded. "I don't _want to become you_!"

"And yet you don't have a choice." Kaygo sneered at her younger self. "A perfectly stable time loop. You should take notes, Doctor." Kaygo spun around and poked Cas in the chest. "Let's talk shop for a moment, angel. Sam and Dean, why do their lives have to suck?"

"Must have something to do with the craftsmanship." Cas growled.

"Dude, think about it from the old man's perspective for a minute." Kaygo chastised. "His kids are all grown up and _still living at home_. That's enough to drive any parent batshit crazy so on an astounding leap of faith he leaves you guys the keys to heaven and goes on a little R&R retreat. Then what happens? You guys flip the freak out. Kick start the apocalypse?" Kaygo groaned and rubbed her face. "Do you even _know_ how many permits that requires? Red tape mean _anything_ to you guys? Did you even think about consulting the- oh, wait. I forgot, that's so far above _your_ pay grade, Castiel, that you might as well be shining shoes!"

"You're the ones who let the fox back into the hen house." Kaygo accused and looked pointedly at the Doctor. "You can't expect me not to break a few eggs. I wanted to stay. I was willing to die. But no, to save you all I needed the energy to defeat my master. It wasn't anything big. Sort of what I'm doing right now. I little magic here, a natural gift there…I _asked_ permission, of course. You'd be surprise what people will give at a name drop."

"What sort of deal could you possibly offer?" The Doctor asked.

"Tisk, Tisk, Doctor. Trade secrets. I can't just give out customer info like that." Kaygo countered. "I'm not here to offer you anything because the truth is you've already accepted my help."

Kaygo turned to Dean, "I don't even know why I'm trying to explain this to you. It's clearly going right over your head."

"I'm not stupid." Dean snapped. "I prioritize and you're a jackass. You can't do this to us."

"I'm not here to offer you a deal Dean." Kaygo put her hands on her hips. "Not a bad guy. Don't be like my friends. Please, you have to believe me."

"I have no idea what you're-"

"Nothing will change. People will always choose to stick with what they know." Kaygo said. "It all works out."

"And what happens if I go back on our so called deal." Dean taunted.

"Haven't a bloody clue." Kaygo responded. "If you're expecting the world to magically fix itself and everybody gets a happy ending then you are deeper in denial then I thought. I guess you really wanted that A in the second grade."

"Try something a little more significant." The younger creature snarled and then looked sympathetically at Cas. "You have no idea what you could be missing."

"Once again your language capacity is underwhelming." Kaygo explained. "I like using the term _Amrit_. You might know it better as _ambrosia._ The ancients called it _nectar_. Poetic if inaccurate, it's not exactly the kind of recipe you can write down. …It's power in its rawest form. I told you that I can't alter a world without messing it up, but I can sneak in a take a sip. Just a drop from one person, but if you times that by billions then I have enough energy to rival even my master."

"So you've already taken it from us," Sam reasoned. "We're living in a world where you took our…"

"Amrit." Kaygo supplied helpfully. "Think the butterfly effect. Someone will lose that baseball game that would have set them on a path to the major leagues. Someone's patient dies on the operating table. In worse cases…" Kaygo looked genuinely sad. "It's raw energy, Sam. I don't know how their soul was going to use it. The last person I borrowed if from lost the chance to be a ground breaking artist, but it wasn't just that. He, excuse me- _she_ ended up being born transgendered because of my intervention. Just by being there I changed their history."

The younger creature added, "Think of all those itty bitty instances where just a slight push would have made all the difference. A hair of divine aid to turn the scales in your favor. I am so sorry."

"What happened to it?"

Kaygo coughed uncomfortably. "I used it all to kill my master. It's gone now. I'm sorry."

"What about us?" Sam asked.

"It's time to go home." The younger creature appeared behind Sherlock and John the two vanished. In her hands were two marble sized lights. "But their memories of this I'll keep. They need not be burdened by those truths."

"Don't even think about it." The Doctor held up his hands and scooted closer to his ship.

"Live long and prosper, Doctor." The creature seemed to have accepted her fate. "I've not doubt I'll be cleaning up your messes sometime soon. How many times have you blown up your universe now? If you keep wearing it out with cheap timey whimy tricks I'm worried the thing will implode upon itself… again."

"You're going to do it then. Reap the worlds." The Doctor scorned. "Do you know the secret to knowing which ones?"

"For guardians it's instinctual." Kaygo supplied. "The ones we save are the one's we want to kill and we harvest the worlds that, when immersed, make us want to kill ourselves. It is a fitting curse for I am indeed my master's student."

The younger creature turned to the brothers. "You have to leave now."

"You don't have to do it!" Sam protested. "You can change the future! You don't have to become like her."

The younger creature sobbed and shook her head. "I can't kill him as I am, he was all I had left. I really… my teacher…" The creature collapsed in mourning. Kaygo walked forward with a dagger in her hand.

"There is still one more lose thread." Kaygo said. "This is your first domino, killing me. I'm not evil. I did what I had to. I saved entire worlds. I will not take my master's place. I will not make his same mistakes."

"No!" Sam moved to intervene.

Castiel felt a surge of power and his grace throb. "Dean! Sam!"

"We can't just-!" Dean pointed to the two creatures.

"This isn't our fight." Cas soothed. "We need to go back. This isn't our fight."

* * *

**Epilogue:**

The three of them landed in the forest where the incident began. They stood in silence for a while until Dean pulled out his keys.

"So that's it." He declared and looked at both his brother and the angel in all seriousness. "It was just some weird alien abduction thing. We treat it like it never happened."

"Dean," Sam began.

"No Sammy," his brother interrupted. "Just drop it. I'm getting a head ache just thinking about it."

"You're not worried about that a piece of our existence, our souls, that everything could have been different?" Sam demanded. "Nothing at all."

Dean opened the driver side of the impala. "Nothing changes Sam. Besides I got everything I need."

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence. A few miles later the whole thing did start to feel like a bad dream. Sam couldn't just rest easy though. They pulled into a small town for gas and the younger Winchester stood up to stretch his legs.

Something caught his eye.

"Dean," he hissed.

"What?"

Sam pointed across the way to a familiar face. Familiar to him anyway. Her closed weren't the best, but clear as day he saw the woman from the café. _No_, he reasoned that this couldn't have been the creature but the image the creature had borrowed. Sam clenched his fists.

"Sam?" Dean asked as his brother marched off.

Sam put on his puppy looks and put a hand on the woman's shoulder. She jumped and turned, but her expression was unmistakable and Sam knew what he had to do.

"Excuse me, miss." He said carefully trying not to appear as a threat. "Uh, do you need some help? Are you in trouble."

The woman looked at him shocked and Sam knew he was right. This time he wouldn't fail. He would prove the creature wrong and that the future wasn't set in stone.

The woman looked up at him with pleading eyes and asked, "How...did you know?"

* * *

**A/N: Well, that was a challenge. Thanks to everyone who stuck it out this long. I hope the plot twists kept you interested enough. Considering I started out with a blank MS word doc. and this is my first ever cross over fic, not bad. Not great, but you get what you pay for :p**

**I would have liked to have included Sherlock and John more, but the fic took on a life of it's own. **


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